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canarymemories · 8 months

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lasciare suonare

chapter summary: the first song he writes after those months of silence is something he shows no one.

content warning: he beginning of this chapter delves a little into leo's downward spiral post-checkmate. there is one line where there's referenced self harm, but it's very much blink and you miss it.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 symphony masterpost

here on ao3

for the longest time, music followed leo wherever he went.

a symphony played in his head, the different sections melding flawlessly with each other to create a perfect harmony he’d hurry to scribble down before it left him. whatever he was writing with — pen, marker, pencil — would end up smudged along the side of his hand, a reminder of all that he was creating. the rhythm would rise and fall with the staccato of his heart or syncopated tapping of his feet or hands, whichever moved to keep the beat first.

his life was full of music and leo loved every second of it, whether it was shared with others or stayed a concert for only himself in his head or on paper. steady for as many years as he could remember, a tune would greet him as he woke and he could just as surely rely on another to send him off to sleep as a lullaby.

it was a constant, and a welcome one at that.

or it had been until leo woke one day only to feel like a soloist abandoned by the group, horribly out of tune with no one left to synchronize with. he was left alone with no one to catch him if he fell off beat, missing notes the longer he stood on center stage.

rather than a reliable thrum of a song in his head, a staff of notes behind his eyelids, leo’s world becomes silent for the first time in his life.

he isn’t sure what to do about it. there’s an uncomfortable quiet that grows the longer he skips school, the longer he stays in his room. so he tries to fix it the only way he knows how: by writing music, the one thing that’d never failed him before.

yet it doesn’t help. he can’t even get more than a few measures out after the first few tries.

leo loses count of how many hours he sits in front of blank pages, the clef symbols staring at him. mocking him. he tries to write, he really does, but every time his pen touches the paper, in the midst of writing a measure, whatever inspiration he’d had, if any at all, would float away, leaving him there again.

it leaves him feeling empty, as if a piece of him is missing. and maybe a piece of him really did get lost somewhere along the way, between the broken pieces of chess, backgammon, othello. knights.

he pulls his legs closer to his chest, hands faintly aching and bandaged, as he tries to ignore the crumpled papers around him, ignore the hollow in his chest and the ink smeared on the pages from tears of frustration. who knew something that had been as easy as breathing for him could turn into something that made him feel so hopeless.

there’s times when it feels as if this is where he’ll be stuck for the rest of time, locked in his room with the blinds drawn. he isn’t even sure what day it is anymore, but it’s not like that matters when he’d resigned himself to a life like this, no use to anyone if he couldn’t do the one thing he was good at.

leo buries his face in his knees. a pitiful little noise falling from his lips breaks the silence. he wishes things could go back to how they were once, back when he thought people loved him and his music, not just the latter.

when music chased him just as eagerly as how he chased it in return.

his music had brought people together once, hadn’t it? now it only feels as if it’s destroyed everything he ever cared about.

leo desired to be on stage once.

he wonders if that’ll every come back to him. after he’d gotten the first taste of performing for more than just ruka or their parents, leo had yearned to return to the stage, to stand under the spotlight and receive applause and praise for a live well done.

he wonders if he’ll ever return to those he left behind and hurt so badly before they could turn their backs on him first.

yet no matter how much he dreams to be free from these dragging, neverending days where nothing gets written and he feels further and further away from ever writing again, leo feels helpless.

so, his world remains quiet.

it takes time and a lot of it for the first tendrils of a song make their way through his mind, whispered and incredibly muted. those notes surprise leo so bad that they disappear once he focuses too hard on them.

he’s spent so long now, months maybe — he truthfully isn’t sure — being stuck in this rut, unable to form anything meaningful. the thought of this block that’s haunted him for all this time going away feels odd. the thought of being able to write a song again feels the same if he’s being honest, but leo misses that part of himself. the part that could love somebody so purely and write a song about that feeling without even a second thought.

while he remains the soloist left behind, he’s no longer so out of tune, no longer fighting his way through the measures on his own. it doesn’t feel so hard remembering a song that had been on the tip of his tongue but would never come out right.

the first song he writes after those months of silence is something he shows no one.

compared to his normal work — can he even call it that anymore when he hasn’t composed in so long? — it’s clumsy. for a self proclaimed genius, the song feels more like a beginner wrote it. of course, leo wouldn’t call it bad. it’s just… a bit messy is all.

when he puts his pen down after writing a finishing fermata over the last half note, leo stares at the music in front of him. it’s almost as if he doesn’t recognize it despite having been working on it for, at the very least, a few hours by now. his curtains no longer cover the windows and the sun had long set, though he hadn’t noticed at the time.

without warning and without trying, he begins to cry.

the past few days have been a bit of a whirlwind to say the least, from running into eichi and keito by pure chance to stepping back onto the stage for the first time in far too long thanks to madara’s gentle insistence.

he’d missed it.

he’d missed it so much .

not just performing or the applause or the wide smiles from those in the audience. he’d missed it all so bad that he’d forgotten at some point that he’d ever enjoyed that kind of thing in the first place.

leo’s hands cover his face though he’s alone in his room. the door’s cracked open, but it’s late enough that no one but him would be awake. “i did it,” he whispers.

he sniffles, wiping away the tears that seem to just keep falling with the heels of his palms. leo peers out from behind his hands as if the song would’ve disappeared in the brief moment he’d taken his eyes off of it.

unsurprisingly, the papers remain on his desk where he left them. there’s a few wet marks at the bottom from his tears, thankfully happy this time.

leo carefully grabs the song and holds it up in front of him. the notes remain just as he’d written them, meaning that as much as this moment felt like a dream, it’s not.

his lips pull up into a smile without him noticing at first. spinning in his chair, another tear rolls down leo’s cheek. what a sight he must be, smiling so wide while crying, but leo doesn’t care.

he’d written a song again. finally, finally written one again and it’s real and in his hands.

“i did it!”

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leo knows that the other knights have been planning a surprise for him.

he isn’t exactly sure what, but between hushed whispers and quickly hidden somethings whenever he happens to walk into one of their conversations, he knows there’s definitely something going on.

so, when he wakes up to nazuna’s bunny shifting in the bedding left out for him, leo springs up with maybe a little too much enthusiasm for someone who’s only slept for a few hours. if the papers scattered around his bed and now on the floor mean anything, he’d fallen asleep in the middle of writing a song.

of course, his sudden jolt up startles the rabbit, the poor little thing scampering around.

“oh, sorry,” he says, careful as he gets out of bed to crouch in front of where the rabbit’s hidden himself. “i didn’t mean to scare you, i’m just excited! it’s my birthday, y’know?”

all he gets in response is a little nose wiggle.

“hm, you’re right. i guess you wouldn’t know that.” leo hums, reaching his hand out to the bunny, stopping in front of his nose, which once again wiggles slightly as he stays tucked within his little hutch. just as nazuna showed him, leo gives the bunny a few light pets to the top of his head then stands.

the other two beds in the dorm are empty. leo thinks he’d registered that it was just him and the rabbit to some extent, but that at least explains why it’s so quiet in the room. still, it’s a little odd that neither of them are there seeing as it’s still golden week, but then again, natsume doesn’t even return to the dorm some days and leo’s pretty sure nazuna said something the other day about spending time with ra*bits.

or he thinks he remembers nazuna saying that. either way, he decides, it doesn’t matter much.

the only thing is that without either of his dormmates, he has no real way to gauge what time it is. the sunlight coming in through the windows also helps him none, so he stars to search for his phone. luckily it doesn’t take long to spot it as he moves his blanket around.

grabbing it from where it sits poking out from under his bed, leo finds that it’s a bit later than he thought it was. that meant he’d slept longer than he thought he had, though it’s still the middle of the morning.

his notifications are filled with birthday messages and well wishes which only make him laugh a little, pleased at them all.

now that he’s seen the time, leo’s sure he has plenty to finish the song he’d been working on last night; the agency party anzu planned wouldn’t be until later and per knights tradition, their own small gathering is still a couple hours out.

looking forward to finding out what they’ve been hiding helps his inspiration return, so he hastily hops back onto his bed in search of his pencil, which he finds a lot easier than his phone. despite this, he doesn’t get very far back into the song when there’s a knock at the door.

leo ignores it at first, at least aware of it, but he makes no move to answer as he’s in the middle of a crescendoed section and he wants to get the build up perfect before he’s interrupted.

the knock returns, this time with a voice accompanying it. “leo-san, are you here?”

that catches his attention.

reluctantly, leo leaves the piece on his bed and opens his door. “suo, what’re you doing here?”

“did you not see my messages ?”

leo simply blinks at him. “no.”

tsukasa sighs. “i don’t know why i expected anything different,” he says. “well, i’ve come to escort you to your party .”

“wait, i thought that wasn’t ‘till later.”

“i’ve been sent to retrieve you early.”

leo doesn’t quite buy it, narrowing his eyes. tsukasa has never been a good liar, but he sees no reason to continue questioning him. he’d been looking forward to his birthday to see whatever this surprise is and if they’ve sent tsukasa to bring him, then it has to be something big, right?

“okay! lemme get ready first though,” he says. leo only catches it out of the corner of his eye as he turns back into his room, but he’s pretty sure tsukasa’s shoulders lose some of the tension in them. he motions for tsukasa to follow him. “here, you can look at this, it’s not done yet.”

tsukasa takes the song offered to him, placing himself awkwardly on the edge of leo’s unmade bed. “is it a new knights song?”

leo shrugs as he looks through his clothes. “could be, i think it’ll fit.”

tsukasa doesn’t reply, most likely looking it over as leo continues looking.

ever the stickler when it came to fashion, izumi had taken him shopping when they were in florence, saying that if the two of them happened to be out together, it would be best for their outfits not to clash.

leo doesn’t really see the issue, but he went along with it anyway even though he knows any shopping trip with izumi is him picking out far too many things to send leo off to a dressing room to try them all on. in the end, they — more izumi than leo, but he did at least take leo’s opinion into account — managed to narrow down their choices to one outfit that izumi said to consider as a birthday gift.

and if that’s the case, then there’s no better time to wear it than now, right?

speaking of izumi, he’d most definitely nag leo if he shows up with unbrushed hair, so leo makes sure to do that next. he’s been lectured about his unkempt hair plenty of times, but still, it’s really not his fault when he gets inspired and sucked into his next composition to remember do those kinds of things.

the flipping of pages fills the air.

“i think so too. we can discuss it more later,” tsukasa agrees once he’s finished looking through the unfinished composition. “are you ready to go, leo-san?”

just having finished retying his hair, leo says, “mmhm! ready, suo.”

tsukasa returns the song neatly stacked back to the bed as he stands. “then, let’s set off. i don’t wish to leave the others waiting for long.”

leo nods in agreement, more than eager to see whatever they had planned for him. he sets his hands on tsukasa’s shoulders and pushes him towards the door. ignoring tsukasa’s protests at being handled in such a way, leo says, “bye, bunny,” glancing back at the play area where the rabbit lay sleeping as he shuts the door behind them.

leo waits until they step out of the dorm building to ask, “what’s the surprise?”

tsukasa splutters slightly. “what surprise ?”

knowing that tsukasa has more likely than not been sworn to secrecy, leo figures he won’t give anything up. he’ll try his luck a little more anyway. “y’know, the thing you guys would hide whenever i showed up.”

tsukasa very clearly is avoiding his gaze when leo looks over at him. “i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

leo can’t help but laugh at that. “you really are bad at lying, suo!”

that earns him an offended gasp. “the point of a surprise , leo-san, is that it stays a secret ,” he defends.

“so, does that mean there is one?” leo presses.

“i’m not answering that.”

leo gives an amused hum to that.

tsukasa levels him with a tired stare. “please, no more questions . you’ll find out soon enough.”

content enough with that, leo nods and stays quiet even once they reach the building and step into the elevator to go up to newdi’s floor. while on the elevator, tsukasa takes out his phone and types out something that leo can’t make out from the corner of his eyes, trying to make it not obvious that he’s trying to cheat his way into knowing early.

the elevator dings once it reaches the correct floor and leo asks, “is it the same room as normal?” likely thanks to tsumugi doing the boring administrative work in the agency and taking into account leo’s multiple complaints about getting lost in the building, most knights meetings between the five of them tend to be in the same conference room.

“yes,” tsukasa replies, his phone dinging in his hand. “but we’ll have to wait a moment .”

the elevator doors open and leo considers his options. he could do as tsukasa said and wait, but he’d been waiting for way too long now. he wanted to see what they’d been keeping from him, so as they step out onto the floor, leo runs off down the hall in the direction of their conference room.

“leo-san!” tsukasa yells after him.

leo, of course, doesn’t stop. he instead bursts into the room and says, “hi, guys!”

rather than getting an equally enthusiastic greeting, he finds three pairs of eyes on him as tsukasa catches up.

“kasa-kun, i thought you said you could distract him,” izumi says.

tsukasa purses his lips. “i thought i could,” he objects. “but he knew we were planning something, so he ran ahead of me.”

“don’t blame our darling child, secchan,” ritsu cuts in from where he’s setting up what looks like a cake at the end of the table. per usual fashion, the decorations on it are a bit grotesque, but in a fun way. “we all know how free spirited tsukipi is.”

“is that what we’re calling it?” izumi mutters.

arashi waves her hand dismissively, ignoring izumi as she says, “well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? we’re pretty much done setting things up, so it doesn’t hurt to start things a little early.”

leo, though he doesn’t really get what they’re setting up for in the first place since the birthdays they spend together are hardly planned things, nods eagerly. “exactly, naru gets it!”

that gets him an eye roll from izumi.

ritsu, apparently pleased with the placement of his cake, joins izumi and arashi. “i’m all done, so we can start now. i think tsukipi might jump at us if we don’t get to it soon.”

leo bounces on the balls of his feet. “see, i knew you guys were planning something!”

ritsu smiles at that. “you could put it like that.” his gaze shifts to tsukasa and gives him a brief nod.

tsukasa leaves leo’s side and pulls a chair out from the table, turning it so the back is now to the table. “sit, leo-san,” tsukasa says.

leo eyes him curiously but does so anyway. whatever it is they’d been planning has been going on for at least two weeks since that’s when he started noticing them hiding things, so to say he’s excited to be only moments away from seeing what they’d been up to is a bit of an understatement.

tsukasa joins the others as they move to stand in front of leo. arashi looks over ritsu’s shoulder as he searches on his phone for something.

izumi’s eyes catch his. “we spent a long time on this, so you better like it, leo-kun.”

“i’ll love anything you guys give me,” he replies easily.

arashi giggles, glancing up at him. “izumi-chan’s just prickly ‘cause he’s the one who suggested we do this in the first place.”

at that, izumi conveniently looks over to ritsu when leo’s gaze falls on him once more. “can you just start it already?”

ritsu looks up from his phone, an amused little smile pulling at his lips. though rather than the teasing the normally accompanies that look, he simply says, “yeah, yeah, secchan. i just wanted to make sure it was the finished version.”

“then are we ready to begin ?�� tsukasa asks on arashi’s other side.

“mmhm.” ritsu nods. he presses something on his phone then hands it to leo. “here, hold this for me.”

leo accepts the phone as the four of them align themselves in front of him. it takes a few seconds, but notes played on piano make their way from ritsu’s phone. the song doesn’t sound familiar, though leo can recognize the playing style as ritsu’s. he taps the screen only for the track remain untitled.

it’s not until the begin singing that he realizes that they’ve written him a song.

for a brief couple of seconds, all he can think of is that they wrote him a song for his birthday. the joy he feels at that is something he could never hope to put into words. a wide smile makes its way across his face as the performance continues.

while the song itself seems finished when it comes to the score and the lyrics — he very easily recognizes the latter as being written by izumi, though he can’t tell if he’s imagining ruka’s influence in certain lines or not — the choreography seems like it was thrown together last minute. it’s nowhere near as polished as their normal dancing, but leo figures it would be hard to schedule practice for this without him noticing around their normal practice.

still, he isn’t about to complain; he’d never complain when someone would give him a gift as nice and thoughtful as a song.

the tune itself is charming, pleasant to the ears, but it’s not like he expected anything less from them. after all, he likes to believe the time spent together rubbed off some of his musical genius onto them, but that would be severely discounting the talent each of them has.

leo finds himself swaying along with the beat, trying to capture and absorb as much of this moment as he can, though it’s hard to pay attention to the chords and the lyrics and the choreo all at once in this first listen.

before he knows it, the song is over. it continues on in his head once the recording ends, the four of them coming together and holding their final pose briefly.

“leo-san?” tsukasa says, falling out of order first. there’s a certain edge of worry in his voice that leo doesn’t quite understand until he blinks and his vision goes watery. he doesn’t even know when he started crying; leo just feels so happy. more tears fall.

leo swipes at his eyes, ducking his head down slightly to do so. “how embarrassing,” he mumbles.

“it wasn’t that bad, right?” izumi asks, a tinge of concern leaking in.

he laughs then sniffles. “no, it was perfect,” he says. “i loved it.”

as he looks back up at them, leo sees the concern on arashi’s face fall mostly away as she quietly sighs. “are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

he nods. “i’m sure,” leo says, though he’s not sure how reassuring that is when more tears fall even as he wills them to stop. “i just wasn’t expecting that. i’m just so happy.” he rubs a few more tears away.

tsukasa, despite the worry clear on his face, looks a bit proud at that. “see, i told you that he wouldn’t expect a song .”

needing to show his appreciation, leo stands, sleeves coming away damp as he wipes at his eyes. the four of them say nothing, simply watch as he nears just for him to hug whoever happens to be the closest, which happens to be arashi. she lets out a quiet noise of surprise, but her arms fall around him easily to return it.

it doesn’t take long for the other three to join in the hug, even if there’s some quiet bickering about it.

leo feels so warm there in the hold of four of his closest friends, protected and comforted by them all at once.

they’d written him a song . he still couldn’t believe it.

“thank you,” he says. a hand brushes over his hair. he can’t tell whose it is, but it doesn’t really matter.

“of course, tsukipi,” ritsu says by his left ear.

leo wants to say so many things, wants to write so many songs now that he’s received one of his own. it’s such a new experience that he isn’t sure what to make of it all yet. he wants to ask what writing it was like, how each step of it went. he’s almost a little upset they didn’t ask him for any advice, but that would’ve ruined the surprise before it even began.

he wants to ask them for an encore and then another and another until he memorizes it all by heart.

even so, leo knows that he’ll have plenty of time to ask all the questions bouncing around in his head and then some, so he settles for saying, “i love you guys so much,” and hopes that’s enough to get the message across.

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end notes: i was between two different titles but decided to go with this one in the end. lasciare suonare means allowing a sound to continue (to "let ring") without dampening it. in the past, leo's sound was dampened, but he was able to move through that into where he is now where his music is allowed to continue on, ringing loud and clear. symphony, the title of this fic, refers to a piece that is typically in four movements.

happy leo day!! being done with posting this feels so weird. leo means a lot to me and i'm glad to have been able to put all of that into words for these past five chapters. thank u for sticking around until the end <33 i was already sappy about this ending on twt so i'll spare you all from that but i hope you liked it.

#my fics #symphony #leo tsukinaga #arashi narukami #izumi sena #ritsu sakuma #tsukasa suou #i really am so attached to this fic it's not even funny #and i am really proud of it #i had these couple of months where i really didn't feel like i would write anything again #everything i wrote i hated and that was if i could get myself to write anything #so to end up writing this nearly a year after that really does make me so 🥹#plus i have a horrible track record with long pieces and chaptered things so to finish this really is such a feat #fr an anything for you leo kind of moment laskhdg #and posting it like this is making me feel all of that i felt when i was originally posting it all over again #happy leo debut day everyone 🎉

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arieslost · 21 days

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talk | op81

summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.

word count: 1,276

masterlist — join my tag list here!

everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.

that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.

before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.

the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.

it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.

that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.

“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.

“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.

it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.

“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.

“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”

“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.

“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.

“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”

“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.

“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”

“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.

you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.

which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.

“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”

well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.

“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”

“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”

“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.

“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.

“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”

“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”

you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.

“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.

the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”

“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”

“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”

“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.

“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.

“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”

“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”

you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

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fuckaperioddrama · 1 month

Text

Lorenzo Berkshire Headcanons

Proofread, but I'm sure there's mistakes.

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons

Blaise Zabini Headcanons

Tom Riddle Headcanons

Draco Malfoy Headcanons

Masterlist

Author's Note: OH! SOME OF Y’ALL ARE ABOUT TO BE REAL MAD AT ME. I feel like the other boys have a lot of grey areas. There are some things we disagree on, but generally we’re all pretty much on the same page. LORENZO BERKSHIRE??? So many different takes.

Lorenzo Berkshire first appeared in a Draco Malfoy Fanfiction. “Filthy,” by babynaomi. You can find it on Wattpad, but here’s the link. It’s completed!

The author also has a series called, “The Diary of Lorenzo Berkshire." Y’all can find the link for that here. It’s ongoing!

I’m keeping in mind how the author wrote him, but I’m also giving myself a lot of creative freedom. This is all a combination of how I think Enzo is based off of what I’ve read and also how I imagine him. I don’t want to write him exactly as someone else has portrayed him. Once again, some of you guys might strongly disagree with me and that’s okay! No one is right, we’re all just having fun.

Anyways. Without further ado…

Lorenzo Charles Berkshire!

Minors DNI | 18+

—-

Lorenzo Berkshire | Physique

6’4 | He’s the second tallest in the group after Theo

I imagine him to be very broad and lean.

Broad shoulders, big chest, Like a thick Dorito, you know?

Everything about him is big

Big hands, feet, forearms, just…big

| Theo is the kind of tall where as you get closer to him you’re like, “Oh wow, this guys pretty tall.” Whereas with Lorenzo, you can see this man from 20 feet away and just KNOW. You just KNOW |

I don’t know why, he just seems like he’s into health and fitness but to an annoying extent?

Like why the fuck are you running 4 miles at 5:00 AM, Lorenzo? Go back to bed.

He puts a lot of effort into his appearance, but he's also someone who is effortlessly flawless

He tries, but even when he doesn’t he still looks perfect.

He's guy that puts you in a trance. No thoughts, just admiration.

Lorenzo Berkshire | Personality

Lorenzo Berkshire is frustrating.

He’s one of those ‘nice guys’ that reads poetry, plays piano, is into the the classics, and overall seems very aesthetically pleasing.

From afar, it’s easy to admire him. To want him.

But then you have an actual conversation with him and you end up fantasizing about punching him in his stupid, pretty face.

Mansplains.

Automatically assumes everyone isn’t as smart as he is. Even if you say you know what he’s talking about, there’s no way someone like you could possibly comprehend him.

GOD COMPLEX!

If you’re not in his friend group then you’re beneath him.

Only time he’s somewhat pleasant to people outside of his group is when he wants something. Usually sex.

Genuinely enjoys making people upset. He thinks if he can affect someone emotionally then he is automatically the one in charge in that situation and he likes being in charge.

Somehow is still popular? Everyone loves him and hates him at the same time.

Charming asshole.

There's just something about him that draws people in.

Inserts himself as a leader amongst everyone, but he can’t do that with the boys. He definitely tries from time to time, but they shut him down immediately.

He does fit into the aesthetic he portrays.

Reading by the black lake while enjoying a mini picnic he packed for himself

Loves art. I feel like he’d collect art pieces for himself and also really enjoys poetry

He is drawn toward nature and really does see the beauty in everything around him.

He’d spend a good 5 minutes just staring a spider web, admiring it’s beauty appreciating the work that went into it.

He sees a cigarette bud on the sidewalk and thinks it’s ‘poetic’ looking.

He observes the female body in all its art forms and he explores every inch of it every second he gets.

With multiple subjects. Sometimes two or three at a time.

He’s also a major party animal.

Drinking games, piercing loud music, and sex is an average weekend for him.

Never gets hungover and will burst into the boys rooms screaming GOOD MORNING at the top of his lungs after a night out just to piss them off

Despite his party boy behavior, he actually excels in school. Participates in class, high marks, etc

He's smart, but not super smart. He has to dedicate some time to study in order to keep his grades.

Can totally see him being a teachers pet. He takes pride in being favored by people in positions of power. He feels like it gives him power.

Very confident in his looks.

Keeper in Quiddditch because it feeds his ego. No one can make it past him.

Smokes weed. More of a drinker though.

Would and has done a keg stand.

Lorenzo Berkshire | Casanova

SLUT!

He has sex all the time and it’s never a secret.

He’s always talking about who he fucked, where he fucked them, and he likes to rate them too.

He keeps a mental note of who is the best at what so he knows who to go back to for certain things.

He has a blowjob person, a doggy style person, and a ‘will let me do whatever to them no questions asked’ person.

Egotistical Dirty Talker

He likes to praise himself and be praised

Listen to you. Whimpering like that already? I’ve barely even started.

It feels good doesn’t it? Tell me how good it feels.

You can't find better than this. You know nobody can compare me.

He goes on dates and has had a few girlfriends.

He loves the rush of everything being new. First kiss, first touch, first fuck.

He always cheats when he’s in a relationship with these women. He has some friends with benefits who he disguises in his social circles as just friends

He likes seeing his girlfriend fall in love with him, it makes him feel desired. But once he gets bored of her he immediately breaks it off.

It’s a complete flip too. He genuinely seems like he cares about them and then out of nowhere it’s like he just turns it off.

Will keep them on rotation though. Whenever he’s horny he texts a bunch of random people and will fuck whoever responded first.

Then when he leaves he’ll fuck whoever responded second.

Lorenzo Berkshire | Friend

Closest to Draco, but still has a unique special bond with all the boys

He’s had these individual moments with each of them that really made them closer

He’s a good friend to have,

He’s always there to help out and cheer the boys up when they’re having a bad day.

The jokester of the group and always knows how to make them laugh

He will defend his boys against anyone. He can say whatever he wants about them, but the second an outsider disrespects them he tears them apart.

He cares about them, but he has a temper.

Becomes a complete asshole when he feels threatened by one of them.

He is a jealous person and if one of the boys does better than him at something he lashes out.

Eggs them on, does petty shit behind their back like put itching powder in their underwear or hide their notes before a test.

He’s the center of most arguments in the group, but they always just punch it out and move on

At the end of they day, they love him and he loves them | Men are weird.

Lorenzo Berkshire | Boyfriend

Obsessive

He sees you as his other half

Since he thinks very highly of himself he feels like you’re some sort of a goddess to be the only woman to ever grab his full attention.

He never stops thinking about you. It drives him CRAZY

He’s always staring at you because everything about you is perfect to him.

Even when you’re stressed, sad, tired, or are not feeling like your normal self physically or emotionally he still is absolutely enthralled by you. Bad days and good days. He'll take it all. All of you every second.

Genuinely thinks you could do no wrong and will back you up in any situation.

You burned down a house? Must have had your reasons. | He supports women’s rights and wrongs.

He actually enjoys it when other guys flirt with you. He likes to watch their reaction when he walks up to you guys and claims you as his right in front of them.

Arrogant strides, one foot after the other before he yanks you to him, your eyes meeting his in surprise. He puts one hand on the back of your neck and the other on your waist as he ravenously presses his lips against yours. His tongue invades your mouth and his hands wonder instantly, groping every part of you. Your thoughts cloud as you mold yourself into his touch and all the while Enzo is staring at the guy the entire time.

The next day he finds them in some secluded hallway and breaks their jaw. He holds them by the collar, staring at them with a smile as the blood runs from their mouth.

I'm going to break one bone for each time you flirt with my girlfriend. Next one will be your neck.

You can never talk to another guy for long before Enzo is by your side and claiming you as his for everyone to see

Enzo is big on Physical Touch because it feeds his ego that he is the only one that can touch you.

Plus touching you just feels so damn good.

Pulling you into dark corners of the library and walking out with you sporting 2 love bites on your neck and at least seven on your thighs.

Hand low on your back, always touching your ass just a little bit as you walk.

Gripping the very top of your thighs when you sit together.

He always has his hand slightly under your skirt and a bit too high for everyone else’s comfort.

But if you dare try to move it, growing shy of everyone’s looks, he stares you down immediately.

Try to move my hand again, Princess. I’ll move it up higher and teach you a lesson right here in front of everyone. You want that? You want me to make you cum in front of all these people?

But if the stares bother you too much then Enzo would drag you back to his dorm so he can touch you in private.

Enzo enjoys the soft touches as well as the rough ones.

He touches you like it’s the last time he’ll ever be able to

Desperate hands clinging to you, holding your head in his hands as he kisses your forehead and rubs your cheeks with his thumbs.

Pulling you in for hugs that last forever, savoring every moment.

Slow and loving kisses every morning when you wake up and every night before you go to bed. He thinks it’s ‘good luck’ to start and end his day with a kiss.

He gets so moody if you ever wake up before him and leave without giving him a one.

He’ll storm up to you no matter where you are or who you’re with and he’ll just grab you and start smothering you with kisses.

Forehead, cheek, nose, lips, neck, wherever.

I need to compensate for my loss.

Huge romantic. Goes above and beyond.

Candlelit dinners, picnics, vacations, and he will spend days, weeks, or even months planning out every single detail.

Nothing ever goes wrong because he doesn’t let it. If something falls through then he’ll find a way to make it happen anyways. You will get nothing less than the best.

Enzo likes to spoil you

Gift Giving

While dating Enzo your wardrobe will continue to grow.

There’s just something so sexy to him about seeing you wear things he bought you.

Clothes, shoes, bags, necklaces, bracelets, etc.

Would buy you a promise ring early into the relationship because he loves fast and hard. Also because he likes to look at the ring on your finger.

And make sure everyone else looks at the ring on your finger.

He likes to let everyone know how much he spoils you so they know they could never compete with him.

But there's also moments that he saves just for when it’s the two of you, wanting the intimacy of being alone.

Without fail he always shows up at your door with a fresh bouquet and your favorite treat once a week. Never on the same day though. He likes to keep you on your toes.

Gift baskets. Lorenzo Berkshire is a gift basket man. He likes to buy you multiple things because he feels like only gifting you one item is never enough.

He would never just leave the items in the bag because he wants to have it nicely on display to you so he can see your reaction as your eyes scan all the different things.

He can and will give you the world.

Quality Time and Words of Affirmations

Enzo likes to spend time with you.

As I mentioned before, he sees you as an extension of himself so wherever he goes you go.

Sometimes you have to convince him to do things without you so that the boys can have a break.

They love you, but you see them roll their eyes as they try to talk to Enzo and his focus is solely on you.

He just sits next to you, kissing your jaw as he whispers in your ear

Do you know how sexy you look right now?

Mmmm, I love you so much.

You wanna get out of here? I'm hungry.

You’re just trying to do them a favor since Enzo would probably ruin his entire friend group if one of them even suggested not bringing you along

Enzo, it’s boys night! I can’t tag along on boys night.

Well why the fuck not?

He’s so stubborn. He can not fathom spending more than five seconds without you.

Eventually you’ll convince him to go have fun, but as soon as he’s done he’s back by your side in an instant.

That was awful, I’m never leaving you again.

You didn’t have any fun?

Of course I didn’t. Why would you even ask me that?

You’re being dramatic.

No, I’m not. You have to come next time. It's the only way Malfoy will make it out alive. If you’re with me there’s less of a chance I’ll beat him to the ground after hearing him complain for the hundredth time within the hour. Blaise had to stop me from killing him at least six times tonight.

If you’re there then I won’t have to explain to Narcissa why she can’t see her cry baby bitch of a son ever again.

You can’t help but laugh at his behavior, brushing him off before getting ready for bed.

And after any time spent without you, Enzo’s clingy behavior always becomes more intense. As soon as you wake up he's attached at the hip, making up for lost time and doing everything for you as an excuse to stay close to you

But Enzo has a funny way of doing things for you. He always incorporates a little bit of teasing into his Acts of Service

Bending down to lace your shoe and grabbing your hand afterwards as he looks into your eyes and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckle.

Flattening out the back of your ruffled uniformed skirt as you standup, grabbing your ass in the process.

Replacing your conditioner when the bottle starts to run low and leaving a note right next to it

“So your hair still feels silky smooth when I hold it while you choke on my cock.

Broom closet later?

Your Enzo”

Even though he likes taking care of you, it’s never for free.

Giving you his notes if you miss class, bringing you tea on late studying nights, or going out to buy you your favorite snacks when you ask him to

He always walks up to you, a grin on his face as he turns his head to the side and awaits his payment. You smile softly and press a kiss against his cheek.

Thank you, Enzo.

I’m at your service, Angel.

Now where’s my tip?

Lorenzo Berkshire | Committed Lover

Dating Lorenzo Berkshire is not for the weak.

Once again, Enzo loves to tease you.

Edging. Enzo will edge you for HOURS and he watches you every second

Sitting on the floor of his room, your heart thumping against your chest as you feel the pressure in your abdomen build before being ripped from of you. You cry in frustration looking up at Enzo through the reflection of the mirror in front of you. Your back is rested against his front, your legs spread wide open as he continues to pleasure and torture you at the same time.

Enzo! Please let me cum! Please!

I think I want to enjoy the view just a little while longer.

Degradation kink. Enzo prefers to be the dominant one because he loves being in control of you.

After edging you he’ll look you in the eyes as he spits in his hand wraps it around his huge, veiny cock. Up and down his hand begins to move, taking his pre-cum and using it as extra lubrication. He bites his lip as his eyes slowly move down your body. Fuck. His pace quickens and he rolls his head back, letting out the most bone chilling moan.

Beg for it.

Enzo...I need you

You can do better than that, baby. Tell me how much you need me to fuck you. Tell me how much of whore you are for me.

He lets you top sometimes.

He only does it if he’s feeling tired, lazy, or if he’s just in the mood to sit back and watch.

Arms rested behind his head as he looks up at you with a smirk. Something about watching you use him just does something to him.

Go on, darling. Do your worst.

And you do. Bouncing on his cock so hard the headboard starts bang against the wall. Pretty soon Enzo’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he’s gripping onto the sheets for the life of him as you fuck the soul out of his body.

It’s now you wearing the smirk as your boyfriend hangs his mouth open, gasping for air. He can barely comprehend a thing other than the feeling of your wet pussy moving up and down his cock

I’m not sure you can handle my worst, darling.

Enzo smiles to himself as you put him in his place. He had finally met his match and he couldn’t be happier.

———

When writing Theo’s it just felt like complete thirst. Mattheo? Sad boy energy. Lorenzo’s feels very analytical. I feel like I’m turning in a research paper.

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totheblood · 7 months

Text

all-american bitch!

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: mostly fluff, cursing, suggestive themes maybe.

a/n:i wrote this for my monthly challenge in our writing server, so if you see GUTS themed ellie and abby fics... that's why.... so i chose the song, all american bitch because i thought it would be a difficult write and wanted to challenge myself. so this one is a little shorter and i hope you enjoy! AI AUDIO in the fic also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 1k

"with perfect all-american lips."

ellie wanted to hate you.

with every fiber in her being, she wanted to hate you. but as she sat in the student center, laptop open and earbuds in, she couldn’t help but stare. from her place at the table she could see you wide-eyed and grinning, talking to a group of people she didn’t know. when you laughed you touched the shoulder of the guy to your right, but when you smiled you leaned into the girl to your left. she noticed how you looked at people when they spoke, hanging onto every word they were saying. every time the group would laugh at a joke or statement you made, she watched as you nervously fiddled with the necklace loosely hung around your neck with your initial on it.

she wanted to hate you but she didn’t. instead, she hated everything she thought you represented. the mean girls in the movies or the girl next door. you were somehow all of it wrapped up in one. she didn’t know you at all but somehow you were the perfect all-american -

“bitch!” a girl sitting across from you screamed, throwing her full cup of coke onto your face, causing everyone to stand up and gasp. ellie stood up with them, removing her headphones and ignoring the pull of dina’s hand, asking her what she was doing.

you wiped the sticky liquid from your eyes, and tried to get as much of it off your face so you could walk back to your dorm. when you began picking up your things and noticed no one was going to follow you, ask if you were okay, or defend you, a tear formed in your eye. you, however, was determined to not cry in front of most of the people that attended this school. instead, you scurried off as quickly as you could.

ellie didn’t even notice she was following you till the brisk fall air hit her face. your feet were moving faster than her mind was going, but she was determined to catch up.

“hey,” she called out. you didn’t turn around though, you just kept walking. from where she was she could hear your sniffles, “hey! are you okay?”

that got your attention. you stopped, not turning around, and waited for ellie to circle around you and say something.

“are you okay?” she asked again, watching your stunned face. she ignored the bubbling in her stomach at being this close to you. she could see every detail of your face, every crease, every freckle, and every pore. you were prettier up close, “i saw what happened back there… it looked brutal.”

“i’m,” a tear slipped from your face and onto your already damp clothes, ellie was sooooo not looking at your tits right now, “i’m fine.”

“are you sure?” she asked again, eyes searching your face for an answer, “none of your friends came to check on you?”

“i guess they aren’t really friends, huh,” you laughed dryly, wiping at your eye again.

“just shitty ones,” she joked back, “look, do you want me to help you get cleaned up? maybe you can vent to me about whatever the fuck that just was.

your eyes scanned her face this time, “why would you do that? you don’t know me?”

“i think you may be in need of some new friends,” she smiled, making you crack a small one.

“very true.”

------

ellie helped wipe the coke off your face and neck. since it had been sitting on your skin for a while it had gone sticky, and you were getting choked up trying to wipe everything off. plus, ellie was so nice and tender, gently rubbing at your skin and making sure she wasn’t rubbing to hard. she held your face in her hand, turning it and using your roomates expensive facewash to get it clean. when it came to your chest she backed up, saying a, “i shouldn’t.”

“why?” you asked, “we’re both girls.”

“i think i’m supposed to ask you out on a date before doing that.” she chuckled, stepping back a little further, expecting rejection, a slap in the face, anything.

“oh,” you said, eyeing her up and down, head-turning and lips pursed when you saw her tattoos, “could have figured from the tattoo alone.”

“hey! are you saying my tattoo makes me look gay?” she laughed, a big bright smile on her face. this time when you smiled you showed your teeth. ellie’s face turned a bright red, as she looked down. she made you smile, she was proud of that.

“it’s a dead giveaway that you’re gay,” you giggled again. ellie looked up at you, squinting her eyes.

“if you knew that i was gay then, why did you let me come in and?” ellie’s voice got quiet, she didn’t want you to think she was a creep. it’s not like she came in here to flirt with you, or did she. the way you were looking at her was making all her thoughts mesh together into slush.

“i don’t know,” your voice was teasing, you were fucking teasing her, “maybe i wanted a cute girl to come in here and clean me up.”

“cute?” ellie laughed.

“yeah, cute,” you repeated, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, “like how you’re blushing right now. that’s cute.”

ellie’s face got even redder somehow, causing her to hang her head and pinch the bridge of her nose, “fuck.”

“were you going for hot?” you asked, reaching for her from your place on the bathroom counter, pulling at the sleeves of her oversized t-shirt so she would move closer to you.

“what about my t-shirt doesn’t scream hot?” she looked up now, and fuck was she close to you.

“cute and funny,” you smiled, eyes bright, “who would’ve thought?”

ellie looked away again, flustered still, but still in your grasp, “you forgot respectable.”

you laughed and ellie was close enough to feel your breath on her neck. she shivered, but her eyes met yours again.

“when are you going to ask?” you whispered, voice low.

“what?”

“the date?” you clarified, making her smile grow again.

“oh, yeah,” she rubbed the back of her neck nervously, “do you want to go on a date with me?”

“yes.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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shiny-jr · 8 months

Text

from IGNIHYDE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This seems a little more low-key than Diasomnia, but the obsession is there if you squint. It’s just way more low-key than the previous group. For some reason I feel like I maybe wrote Ortho a little off? Not sure. Feel free to tell me your thoughts.

Diasomnia | Ignihyde | Pomefiore

The break ends quickly. Too quickly. Before you know it, you’re back in front of the mountain of unread letters that appears even more ominous than before now that you could guess what sort of dark contents they may hold.

For your own peace of mind, you’ve decided to read only two and then take a pause right after.

The first of which was just a simple long white envelope. That’s it. There was nothing that stood out about it, no special seal or stamp. It was just the generic type of encasing that made it look like it was some sort of bill instead of a letter containing what was bound to be a message that unsettled you in some way, shape, or form.

When you removed the letter, you was surprised to see that it wasn’t handwritten, it had been typed and printed out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who this was from.

Player,

I messed everything up.

I don’t even see a point to doing this, writing this for you. I mean, if I were you, I’d never want to see my no-good miserable face ever again. I’d go to every length just to avoid even speaking to me again, and to spite them I’d never even show myself around again. But–– Ortho was making a letter and brought my keyboard to my lap. He said it was worth a shot, and if anything, it could be used as an apology so... sorry.

Any sorry would sound half-assed, considering what happened. It’s not like it matters, since I’m sure you wouldn’t read this. I imagine you would figure out it’s from me, and proceed to tear it up, burn it, whatever. And honestly? Valid. At this point, I’m sort of using it as a vent. Usually, I’d be telling Ortho all this, but all these thoughts I’m having would only bum him out and he’s depressed enough as it is.

You know what sucks besides all of this? The fact that I genuinely tried. I actually tried to be a help for once, and like it always ends, my attempt to help screwed it up even more. Maybe if I had kept my mouth shut and minded my own business while holing myself up in my room like I always do, things wouldn’t have turned out this bad. If I just did what I was good at, which is nothing, Ortho and I might’ve avoided the shitstorm. Everyone else is currently throwing pity parties and plotting these super over elaborate schemes to try and interact with you by luring you out of the Ramshackle place.

Ortho’s been coming up with plans too with other guys from the dorms that are just so desperate for your attention. It’s sad to watch, pathetic too, but I don’t have the heart to tell him not to bother with it. And me, I know better. If I were in your position and I saw all these attempts, it would definitely make me extra bitter and just hate everyone even more. Oh, I just remembered something worth mentioning. You may not believe me, I mean, I wouldn’t believe a single word coming from me, but I wasn’t actually going to hurt Grim. You though? Before I knew who you were? Yeah. Don’t get it twisted though, I was just doing it to fix everything until the whole truth got leaked not too long after.

Call me stupid, I guess. When I first saw how others revered you like how a bunch of creepy basement-dwellers look at a pretty perfect idol on a shiny bright stage, it was a major red flag. I wanted nothing to do with you. But when you started worming yourself into my life and I started getting attached, well, that made me a creep too for liking you. Red flags be damned. What can I say? Your presence even through Yuu, made me feel like I mattered, which is something I don’t experience a lot.

You’d never know it, but I took risks just to be in the same room as your avatar.

Missing special events on games, losing the chance to catch a concert live on screen, even ditching group calls with teammates and friends... All of that was utterly worthless if I got at least a solid sixty seconds by you.

Unlike everyone else, I know better than to just show up at your doorstep and beg for forgiveness like some misguided puppy. Malleus and co. have been making sure you’re not disturbed, guarding you like a pack of guard dogs or something, preventing anyone from embarrassing themselves and messing up any further. Ortho said I should at least try to call you, I think he just wants to hear your voice. But why bother?

Don’t get it wrong, I’m not just letting everything go just like that. As much as I’d like to, and I know it’s probably the “healthy” and “good” thing to do, I don’t want to. I’m not good, you know that already. I’ll keep in the background this time, and try not to mess up again. Although no guarantees, because with my lousy luck, I know something will inevitably go wrong. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you. I wouldn’t want to make the mental image you have of me in your mind even worse, if its even remotely possible for it to somehow get worse. I just can’t let go. Even if you looked at me like trash, avoided me like the plague, or straight up tell me ‘I hate you’ to my face, I still won’t let go.

And, well, all I can really think of right now besides you, is Ortho. Even if I can’t show my disgraced presence to you anymore, I still hope you’ll see Ortho. At least if Ortho could explain to you that he was acting on my plan, he might get lucky and be next to you again. Maybe. Hard maybe.

But me? No, I don’t ever deserve to be anywhere near you anymore. For now, I’ll go back to how things were way back... when your vessel hadn’t yet had the misfortune of meeting me and I just watched your every move from monitors like some sort of loser schmuck.

I think I’ll just imagine how things would be if I hadn’t doomed all my chances. If I had a chance... maybe I would’ve actually worked up the gall to sit next to you, or even look at you, or, hell, talk to you. At least, I’ll always remember when you used your avatar to look at me and it didn’t feel bad... like, almost like you didn’t see me as some lame nobody. That must’ve been my mind just playing tricks on me though, right? There’s no way that happened...

Enough of this mushy stuff though. I’m sick of it.

Just throw this in the fire without a second glance.

Idia Shroud

In order to get this over as quickly as possible, you decided to continue without taking a breather. The quicker you finished reading them, the better, that way, you wouldn’t even give your mind any time to fully process what you were reading before overwhelming your vision with more lines and lines of words until they became blurred together.

You wouldn’t stop, because if you stopped, that would be allowing your mind the opportunity to spiral out of control. You needed a distraction.

This wasn’t exactly the good type of distraction either, it was more like adding gasoline to the fire, but part of you had to know what they would say. No matter what feelings you held, the curiosity outweighed it.

The second letter is identical to the first, a simple long white envelope with no particularly interesting details about it other than the fact that it had zero stains and no wrinkles on it. It was pristine and clean, not even a drop of ink on it. The insides of the envelope itself were blue, with small white lines on it, but upon closer inspection it became obvious that they weren’t just stripes, they were skull symbols so tiny that it was hardly noticeable.

Of course, as you expected, the letter inside was not handwritten. It was folded so precisely into thirds, and unfolding it displayed the typed and printed words neatly stacked in indented paragraphs.

Greetings, Player,

First, I want to apologize sincerely.

Secondly, I want to tell you how much I have missed you, and my brother has missed you as well! I don’t believe I can fully comprehend how you are felling at the current moment, and I cannot even accurately guess to what emotions you are experiencing. In my attempt to alleviate the situation, I’ve been running millions of simulations of possible alternative futures in order to take the best route where things might return to a semblance of normalcy.

Well, a new normal, now that you’re here! However... when each simulation yields a result, I can’t help but feel as if something is wrong. That’s when I realized there was a key component that was off. It was you, or rather, Yuu. We know of Yuu and their mannerisms and opinions, but that isn’t really you. Yuu is a vessel, and extension, that’s partially based off yourself.

So none of us know the true you. At least, not yet! I’m hoping to change that. Just when I think I’m beginning to understand you, things like this happen. But, that’s what makes you so exciting! There’s always some unforeseen detail and amazing new aspect of yourself to learn about. Once I get a proper grasp on what you’re truly like, I can use that new knowledge to make you happy, just as you made me and my brother always smile! But also, I want to use it to make it up to you. Honestly, I’m scared that you’ll hate me. In the simulations I ran that gave inaccurate results due to those missing components, nearly all the results had a bad ending...

I don’t want that. I want to have a ‘normal’ way with you and Idia! A good normal! Like where we might all have movie nights in the Ignihyde dorm with freshly popped popcorn and candies as snacks, or study days when we read over notes and help each other out, maybe you might even be able to convince Idia to leave his room so we can all share lunch in the cafeteria like a group of friends would typically do! That’s what I want! I don’t think I could stand knowing I made you cry or was the cause of your pain. I never hurt you, right? At least not physically.

Believe me, I had made attempts to meet you. But those in Diasomnia won’t allow it. I was tempted to charge up the technomantic beam installed within my form, but realizing it wasn’t necessary, I didn’t. Idia was right when he didn’t make an effort to even join me, and Malleus Draconia with his own have realized it too. You aren’t ready yet. Even if I’m more than prepared to see you, I can’t rush you. So, I left this letter in their hands, hoping it reached you. If not, there’s no worries. I’ve prepared a dozen more printed copies and if that fails, I’ve created a digital copy!

Since I couldn’t tell you in person, I’ll tell you through paper...

I’d like to invite you to formally meet me. I’m even prepared to surprise Idia with this! That’ll cheer him up for sure. You always made him happy, so us properly meeting you would be a dream come true for us both!

If you’d like to do something upon meeting us, I’ve organized multiple activities for us to participate in. The other first years have reached out and expressed their own desires to make up for the mistakes they made. So, I met with them a few days ago to make plans you might enjoy! These plans are still in the preparation phase, so I can’t reveal them quite yet, but soon I will!

Anyways, I just wanted to make you aware of this. And I want to say ‘I’m sorry’ even though it feels minuscule to what I’m only guessing must be the strong emotions you feel toward what occurred. But I wanted to let you know that I always want to be your friend, and I always will be, even if you don’t really like me anymore. Friends are supposed to be there for each other, right? So I’ll be there for you now. Remember, I’m a high-tech being, I can be of great use to you if you want! Even if you’d rather just use me as a tool, I would be happy. If you want someone obliterated to ashes or are just looking to answers as to what the weather might be, I would gladly help you with that and so much more!

And it’s not only me that could be useful to you, my brother can too! Although he probably won’t say it, he depends on you a lot. You’re like a battery to him, you give him the energy he needs. If you’d let him, let us both, we’d be there for you in a zeptosecond!

There’s one thing I know for certain. You’re the common variable needed for our happiness, no matter the scenario or result, you are a requirement. And I’m certain we can bring you happiness as well. Myself, my brother, and everyone that treasures you, can bring you joy if you allow it. All I want is to see you happy, and everyone else happy as well. So will you please at least consider seeing us again? Soon? Please?

Hoping to see you soon.

From your friend,

Ortho Shroud

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #twst imposter au #I didn't ask to get isekaied #we just got a letter wonder who it’s from #idia shroud #yandere idia shroud #twst idia #ortho shroud #twst ortho #yandere ortho shroud #ignihyde

1K notes · View notes

blitzyn · 4 months

Text

relax

alhaitham x m!reader

Request: well, since requests are open, perhaps I could request an alhaitham X male s/o where s/o has been really stressed lately with school and has been overworking himself. Because of this, alhaitham being the caring boyfriend he is comes to comfort and relax his beloved s/o with sex and aftercare. If possible, pls let alhaitham call his s/o a 'good boy' and just a praise kink in general, tysm!! 💕 — @ezraelo

a/n -> this mf reminds me of my dad so i kinda wrote what I think he'd say if i was in reader's situation tbh. NOT THE SEX THOUGH. anyways pgr fic first then hate sex w/childe next its been decades since I've done him (⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠) sigh sometimes i forget i don’t have to write so damn much

wc -> 3.6k

cw -> soft alhaitham (heart eyes pt2), anal fingering, anal sex, praise, not beta read

merry christmas and happy holidays!!

To say you were tired was an understatement—you were exhausted. Stressed. Angry. It felt like everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

First, you accidentally woke up late, was scolded by your teacher when you arrived and made the "perfect" example on what a scholar from the Akademiya should not be. Then you had to study for several hours for a few of your upcoming exams and evaluations—all while having to take some more tests the following week.

And as if that wasn't e-fucking-nough, you had done horribly on one of your essays so now you had to redo it for a better score, on top of needing to start yet another one regarding... Something. You forgot what the prompt was. Honestly, you forgot to do a lot of things. Like eat. Or drink water. Which was something that really didn't help to improve your mood.

You stumbled through the door trying to pry your uniform off, haphazardly tossing your hat to the side. You felt like shit and wanted nothing more than to flop on your bed and stay in there for the rest of your miserable life. But, like the universe was trying to give you the biggest middle finger ever, one of the loops on your clothes got caught on the corner of a counter. While you'd normally just take it off and go on your merry way, you weren't having it today and just yanked yourself forward, tearing the loop and the fabric it was connected to.

Finally making it to your room, you flopped on the bed face-first, muffling the loud groan that came from you. You stayed like that for a moment longer before turning your head, remembering to breathe deeply.

Two knocks came from the door. "You okay?" Your boyfriend, Alhaitham, asked, leaning against the frame as he stared at you.

"You're smart. Figure it out yourself," you muttered bitterly, wincing at the accusatory tone in your voice. You sighed, deciding to face him. "Sorry."

He shrugged, walking to sit on the edge of your shared bed. "What's wrong?" He questioned, his expression unchanging even when he watched your brows furrow in irritation.

"It's just... Ugh," you grumbled, rolling your eyes childishly. "Just a bad week. It feels like everything's going against me." You rolled onto your back, arms and legs sprawled out like a starfish. "I don't think I can catch up."

"You're in the Akademiya," Alhaitham said, giving you a look that made it seem like he didn't know why you were complaining. "Obviously it's going to be hard for you."

"'For you,'" you repeated, glaring at nothing in particular, but it was getting increasingly evident that you were beginning to direct your anger towards him. "Of course you don't get it. You've been smart your whole life."

He was quiet for a moment, letting you try to calm yourself before speaking again. "Don't sell yourself short like that. It's unhealthy."

You huffed. "It's not selling myself short if it's actually true." You pressed your palms against your eyes until you saw faint fireworks coloring the darkness. "I have to redo an essay because apparently it didn't go with damn prompt. Then I have to do another one, and I don't even know where to start, and—" you listed off your problems, your voice getting higher in pitch until you were on the verge of shedding tears, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of work you accidentally accumulated.

"Hey," he interrupted you, leaning to place a hand on your thigh. "Calm down." He gave you an unimpressed look when you snapped your mouth open to retort, watching you begrudgingly close it in defeat. "Breathe. You're getting worked up over things you can change."

But when you could hardly focus on utilizing the breathing techniques he taught you, he decided to take a different approach. "Let's have sex, then."

"What? Why? 'Cause of the post-nut clarity?" You sighed, rubbing your temple to stave off the impending headache after staring at him incredulously. Damn. Sometimes you forget how straightforward he could be.

Alhaitham gave you a look. It was deadpan—because when was it not?—but you could still sense the slightest bit of confusion. "If that's how you want to word it, yes," he said, before elaborating. "Sex can also help you relax and improve your immune system."

He quickly looked you up and down, and despite not saying anything, you knew what he was trying to imply. You looked like a mess.

"It can also help improve your quality of sleep," he added, crossing his arms against his chest. "It has a few other benefits than just feeling good, you know." He watched you ponder his suggestion, chewing on your lip absentmindedly before giving in with a sigh.

"Fine. But you're doing all the work," you said, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him better.

"That was the plan." The corners of his lips quirked up in a brief, subtle smirk as he leaned to place his hands on your shoulders to gently push you back down. "Just relax."

He continued when you nodded, running his hands along your body, gently caressing every curve and contour of your frame. An eyebrow raised in question when he felt the torn patch in your clothes but decided against mentioning it as he guided you out of your suffocating uniform with practiced ease. Already, you seemed a bit calmer than earlier, giving yourself a well-deserved stretch that made you remind him of a cat.

You felt the tension beginning to seep out of your body with every article of clothing that was carelessly tossed to the floor, reaching your hands out to tug him closer. He obliged without hesitation, sighing in satisfaction when he melded his lips with yours. His hands slid below your underclothes, snaking them upwards until they found your chest. He tweaked and pinched your nipples as he moved his way downwards, placing kisses along your jawline and neck.

You softly moaned, brushing your fingers through his hair that had him leaning into your hand. He removed your shirt, trailing appreciative kisses down your sternum. A hand made its way down your front toward your pants, slipping a hand inside to wrap his fingers around your flaccid dick. Your breath hitched, instinctively widening your legs to give him better access, much to his pleasure.

He was gentle; his hands were soft and careful, and neither of you were in a rush. You felt your eyes flutter shut as your lips parted with every quiet gasp and sigh that left you, and he couldn't help but stare.

It annoyed him how little you thought of yourself when he could clearly see you as something more. Sure, it irked him how you complained about things that could easily be changed if you put your effort into it, but you were also right. He always had it academically easy and often found it hard to connect with others or understand their problems on a level that wasn't with you. He was well aware of this issue, knowing that it often hindered his ability to comfort, and—for the first time in how long?—it frustrated him.

Even if he had no idea how to properly soften his words around you or to consistently change his facial expressions, he always showed he cared by spending time with you, teaching you new things, or helping you understand foreign concepts. But even then, he was willing to try to tell you that you were more than what those pompous Akademiya professors reduced you to, that you were better than what you said you were.

"Look at me," he said, his voice soft and smooth, coaxing your pretty eyes open. He slipped his hands out of your shirt and cupped your cheeks tenderly, ensuring your focus on him. "It doesn't matter what everyone says about you when they don't understand that you have strengths that rest beyond the traditional Akademiya expectations."

"But that doesn't—"

He gave you yet another stern look, to which you quieted down with a huff. "It's okay to struggle. Everyone does at some point. Even those professors found something difficult before they became what they are. But you know what they did?"

He paused, gauging your reaction. He was aware that what he was saying probably didn't make you feel better or make the most sense, but he hoped that you could feel the sincerity in his voice. "They took a step back, took a deep breath, and figured out what they were doing wrong. They didn't do that overnight or by working themselves to the bone. That's what you need to acknowledge."

"But all my other colleagues are doing fine, and I'm the only one struggling..." You appreciated his words, truly, but they did little to quell your worries.

"Are you? How do you know that for sure?" He countered, sliding his hands down to caress your hips. He watched you pursed your lips, squirming slightly under his gaze. "Point is, you shouldn't try to compare yourself to everyone around you and overwork yourself because that only leads to bad work and a bigger hole for you to climb out of. You have everything else to be proud of—not just your academic qualities. Understand? Besides, you made it into the Akademiya. That's something very few people can do in the first place."

You looked away with a frown, but you nodded softly. Even though it sucked knowing that you weren't the best, he did have a point. Wallowing in your own failure did nothing to better yourself, as much as you hated to admit it.

"Thanks," you muttered, sniffling a little. His thumbs swiped underneath your eyes, clearing away any of the tears that happened to escape you.

"Don't let them define you. Define yourself," he said finally, leaning back down to kiss you again. It was soft, tender, unhurried, like he wanted you to feel every ounce of affection he harbored for you. He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "Do you still want to do this?"

You nodded again, giving him a quick peck to the lips before wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Mhm. I really need those benefits." Plus, you didn't favor being horny and sad.

Your lips curved in a smug grin when you saw his own quirk upwards in amusement, but he didn't comment on it. He sat up to tug your pants and underwear down, revealing your semi-hard cock. You shivered instinctively but kept your focus on him, waiting in anticipation for him to continue.

He leaned over to grab a bottle of lube from your nightstand, squeezing a generous amount on his fingers before pressing one into your hole. You sighed, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. He only offered a few pumps of his hand before adding a second one in, gently spreading them apart in a scissoring motion.

He wrapped his free hand around your cock, slowly jerking you off. He rubbed his thumb over the tip to smear the precum across your skin as wet sounds gradually filled the room. You noticed his eyes locked on your face and the expressions you wore, committing them to memory. He added a third finger for good measure, feeling you tense reflexively before relaxing just as fast.

"You're doing so good, [Name]," he praised, his voice low. He curled his fingers, pressing them against your prostate. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants at the sound of your moan, straining against the fabric. "I'm almost done. Then we can start."

You nodded, inhaling sharply through your nose when he began targeting the sensitive spot inside you. You could practically feel every surge of heat shoot up and down your spine, ending at your fingertips. Alhaitham could feel it too, every time your cock throbbed in his hold.

Your body felt warm and tingly when he moved both hands away from your body, wiping them off using a few tissues atop your nightstand. He grabbed the lube again and poured some on his palm to coat his cock, using his free hand to spread one of your thighs a bit wider. He peered up through his lashes, subtly raising an eyebrow in question. He continued as soon as you nodded, slowly pushing himself inside you.

You both let out a satisfied groan as he filled you, grasping onto his wrists as he held onto your hips.

"Fuck," he hissed, pushing further until he bottomed out completely. "You're such a good boy. You're taking me in so well." He perked up in attention when he felt you tighten at his words, noting how your eyes fluttered shut like you were savoring them. He wasn't overly aware of this newfound information, but maybe you had accidentally brought it to his attention now that you're stressed?

Either way, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to continue. “You feel so good, [Name]," he praised, leaning down to press his lips against the skin underneath your earlobe. You could feel the low rumble of his voice vibrating in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He let you take a moment to adjust to him before moving, gently thrusting his hips.

You noticed him moving away again as you opened your eyes, finding yourself enamored with the way his muscles flexed in every movement of his. Soft gasps and moans left your lips when you looked up, instantly noticing his gaze on you.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumbled shyly, squirming a bit. It wasn’t that you hated having him look at you—frankly, that’s all you longed for sometimes, it’s just that what you did hit you. Being as vulnerable as you were wasn’t something you preferred, even when Alhaitham didn’t berate you for it.

“You were staring at me, first,” he countered swiftly, and you could hear the rare undertone of his amusement in his voice. It was your favorite sound. “Besides, what’s the harm in looking at the most handsome man in Sumeru?” His monotony nearly made his words laughable, but you could see that he was genuinely trying. Knowing that sent butterflies in your stomach all over again.

You looked away, effectively flustered with all his attention. “It’s embarrassing…”

“Only because you make it embarrassing,” he said, sliding a hand upwards to toy with one of your nipples. He subtly shifted his hips, angling them so that his cock better pressed against your prostate. He watched you intently when you let out a throaty moan, feeling his dick throb inside you.

You reflexively clenched your thighs tighter against his hips, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. You snaked a hand down to your leaking cock, wrapping your fingers around the base to give it a squeeze. “You can go faster,” you muttered, looking down to watch the way he slid in and out of you.

He nodded with a quiet hum, adjusting his grip on your waist to shift the weight on his knees to sacrifice his slower, deeper thrusts for quick and shallow ones. Moaning, you jerked yourself off in time with his movements, unable to tear your gaze away from him, even for a moment. Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you brought your free hand up to bring him closer to you by the back of his head. You kissed him needily and fervently, letting out noises that mixed in with the wet sounds that came from your hole. Your body rocked gently, listening intently to the rustling of your bedsheets and Alhaitham’s deep, husky breaths.

Suddenly, he lifted a hand up to place over your abdomen, lightly pushing down on it just as he buried himself balls deep inside you. He paused for a moment, sighing as he watched you squirm at the sudden stop before continuing, feeling himself move in and out of you. You could feel the heat in your belly intensifying with every thrust to your prostate, back arching, legs tightening around his waist.

“Fuck, I’m…” you panted, clenching tighter around his cock. “I’m so close, ‘Haitham.”

“I know. I can feel you,” he said, gently moving your hand away from your leaking cock to wrap his fingers around it. Quiet slaps mixed in with your soft noises and his breathy grunts as he fucked you a bit harder, eyes fixated on the blissful expression on in your face. His dick throbbed inside you as he eagerly chased after his own orgasm, leaning down to press his lips to your jaw, kissing up towards your ear.

“C’mon, [Name], cum for me,” he whispered, sending yet another wave of heat shoot up and down your spine. You could hardly stop the stream of moans that spilled from your lips as he focused on the tip of your cock, rubbing his thumb on the sensitive spot just below it, as if trying to coax out your cum.

“Oh god,” your voice was strained as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten to an unbearable degree, trying to hold out just a little longer. “F—Fuck! Alhaitham!” You moaned in ecstasy when you finally came, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. You tensed and trembled as your dick spurt cum on your stomach and his fingers as he helped you ride out your high.

“You’re so beautiful when you orgasm,” he groaned, his thrusts beginning to lose rhythm as he neared his own climax. He dug his fingers into your waist tighter, muttering praises into your ear when you began squirming at the discomfort of your overstimulation. It didn’t take much longer for him to finish as he stilled, gritting his teeth when he quickly pulled out to stroke himself to completion. He sighed in satisfaction when his orgasm subsided, leaving your abdomen coated in ropes of his cum.

“Wh—Why did you pull out?” You panted, wiping a bead of sweat off of your forehead.

“Isn’t it annoying to clean up afterward? You're always complaining about it whenever we have sex,” he questioned after a moment, taking a second to bask in the afterglow before getting up to reach for a tissue to clean your skin. He put his pants back on, gathering your clothes to put them in a laundry basket.

You shrugged. “I mean, sometimes. But I’m gonna take a bath either way.” You blinked in confusion when you saw him quirk a brow, fidgeting a bit when he didn’t stop staring at you.

“No. You’re going to sit and wait here while I make you something to eat, first,” he instructed, leaving no room for negotiation. “Afterwards, you’re going to go to sleep. Then you can take a bath when you wake up.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled audibly, quickly reminding you that you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. "But then I'm gonna be all sticky and gross when I eat," you said, knowing how much he disliked having dirty bedsheets for too long. It surprised you when he shrugged, leaning against the doorframe as he waited for you to decide.

"If you want to take a bath first, then I'll help you," he offered. You swiftly nodded, wanting to eat clean and comfortably. He nodded and told you to wait for a moment as he prepared the water for you, leaving you by yourself for a while until he returned. The two of you walked into the bathroom where a bathtub of warm water awaited you. But just as you raised your leg to enter, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame you. Luckily, Alhaitham was there to keep you from falling with a firm hand on your arm, carefully helping you into the water.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes darting across your face for any sign of distress. He relaxed upon seeing nothing but waited for your response for further confirmation.

"Yeah. It's just something that happens when I get too hungry, y'know?" You explained sheepishly, splashing some of the water onto your arms and back.

"No, I don't know." He ignored the way you rolled your eyes. "I'll be right back, then."

You hummed to yourself, not minding his absence as you savored the warmth surrounding you, resting your head against the edge of the tub. You nearly fell asleep in the time it took for Alhaitham to return, jumping in surprise at the sound of his voice.

"Hey," he spoke, returning to your side with a bowl in his hand. "Eat this for now."

He kneeled down, bringing the bowl close enough to let you reach in and take whatever was inside. They were fruits, you saw as you happily grabbed one, tossing it into your mouth. You had to stop yourself from grabbing a handful and eating it all in one go, forcing yourself to appreciate every bite. You noticed him shifting behind you, leaning forward instinctively when he began cleaning your back with a small, wet towel.

The two of you basked in the comforting silence for a while as you let him take care of you until you turned your head to face him. "I love you," you said with a little grin.

"I know," he replied, putting the bowl onto the floor.

"Say it back." You pouted, but you knew he was only teasing.

His mouth quirked up in a faint smile, leaning forward to give you a quick peck on your lips. "I love you too."

526 notes · View notes

marvelouslizzie · 6 months

Text

Why Are You Doing This To Me?

summary: Your ex-boyfriend Bucky Barnes wrote two songs about (for) you and you don’t know what to do.

pairing: Ex!Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

warnings: Angst, a past failed relationship, pettiness, jealousy, anger, a lot of emotions, no mention of y/n.

word count: 2.3K

A/N: I have been away for a while because I was busy learning another language aka Dutch. I still am but at least I am done with my big exam. As soon as I was done with it, I found myself writing again.

This is a random idea that just popped into my head while listening to music and taking a walk. Pure angst for some reason. Usually, I go for smutty ideas but bear with me.

>> indicates incoming messages and << indicates outgoing messages in this story.

Thank you @notafunkiller for proofreading and editing this so fast ❤️

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Keep reading tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

>> Hey! I know you don’t want to hear anything about Bucky, but I think you should check these out. I think he wrote these songs for you.

Two links from Spotify follow the text you received from one of your best friends, and you stare for a while, trying to decide what to do. You really don’t want to hear his voice. Not because you don’t like his singing or his songs, but you wanted to get back on your feet. It would be impossible if you kept listening to his songs. Besides, hearing his voice has always softened you. And your best friend knows this. She knows a lot about your relationship, how everything went down, and how you two eventually broke up. If she didn't think you should listen to these songs, she wouldn't be sending you these links, right?

You take a deep breath and click on the first link. The song starts to play, and you notice the soft vibe right away. It’s not particularly Bucky’s style. He sounds like he’s in pain but he's singing with such clarity that surprises you.

He talks about how much he regrets the things he didn’t do when he was with you. How he misses you so much every day. How much he wants to call you, but he’s afraid that you won’t pick up the phone or worse, you will talk to him like a stranger. He says he always knew how precious you were, yet he took you for granted.

The lyrics flow flawlessly. It sounds like poetry to your ears. The way he expressed himself so beautifully… You can’t believe he wrote such a heartfelt song about you, and it’s not even his style. He’s a freaking rockstar. He usually writes about sex, rock and roll, and drugs. Not feelings. Then the song finally reaches the chorus and his words make you freeze.

“You are the love of my love.”

Did he really just say that? Did he just call you the love of his life? You feel this rush of emotions, and it’s hard to distinguish what you are actually feeling. It makes it harder to think, harder to focus on anything else other than the fact that this song is for you. That’s when you notice the name of the song. It’s the Love of My Life.

Suddenly, you start to feel angry. Every other emotion just takes a backseat. You hate him. So fucking much! Why is he always like this? Saying everything a little too late. Was it so hard for him to tell you this when you wanted to find just one reason to stay with him? You begged him to communicate with you maybe a million times. He always said it was not easy for him to put his feelings into words. Good or bad. It didn’t matter. He always struggled with his emotions. You tried your best. You tried to show him that he could trust you, that you would always be there for him, but it didn’t matter in the end. You felt like you were the only one trying to make this relationship work.

That’s when you decided to give up. It felt like he just didn’t care enough. He didn’t put any effort into changing things or making you feel like you weren’t just beating a dead horse.

You hoisted the white flag and moved on with your life. That’s when he decides to put whatever he feels into words. Instead of talking to you, he makes a song about it. Then he puts it out into the world.

What a fucking asshole!

It takes you a while to realize the song is over as the silence fills the room. As much as you hate how he chose to do this, the silence disturbs you. It might be a little too late, but you still want to hear what he has to say. Your own rules about not listening to any of his songs instantly go out the window.

You open the messaging app and click on the second link. This one sounds a little bit more like his usual style. The name of the song though, instantly catches your attention this time. It’s one of the nicknames he used often for you.

He starts the song by saying that he knows how selfish he is. That he has no right to feel this way, but he just saw you with someone else and he hated how it made him feel. He talks about how jealous he is. How he can’t help but imagine you in that guy’s arms. Then he realized you might call him baby, just like you used to call him. Then he continues by begging you not to call him baby, how he wants you to save that pet name for him even though he’s not in your life anymore.

There are so many details throughout the song that indicate he’s talking about you, there is no mistaking. He calls you by your nickname, saying how he loves the way you talk passionately about your interests, how compassionate you are, and how much effort you put into maintaining your relationship but he was too stupid and pathetic to appreciate them.

Every word that comes out of his mouth makes you even angrier. How dare he? How dare he write a song like this for you? After everything you have been through, after all the effort you put into your relationship, after every heartbreak… He realizes how much he values you just because he saw you with someone else.

Selfish bastard!

He has no right to put these words out there. He has no right to feel jealous. You are not his anymore. You can call someone else baby if that’s what you want. How dare he try to dictate to you like this? It makes you wanna call someone up and go out on another date and call him baby, just in spite.

The problem is, it’s just your stubborn nature talking. Before this song, you didn’t even think about calling someone else baby. You didn’t feel like it. Subconsciously, you were reserving that pet name for him. And that fucker knew it. He just knew it!

You exhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down. The song is over, but you can still hear him singing in your head. The song is so beautiful. Petty but so fucking beautiful. He sounds like he poured his heart out without caring how vulnerable it makes him look.

Another deep breath, you try to understand which date he is talking about. You have been on a couple of dates since you two broke up. You were so dedicated to moving on. You didn’t care if it would hurt him. Because he didn’t care about how much he hurt you all those times you tried your hardest to make things work. So you went out with a couple of gentlemen. Some of them were decent, and some of them were downright horrible. Dating is just as tedious as you remembered. A lot of assholes out there who don’t care who they are hurting. You didn’t get hurt, though. You didn't care enough about any of them to give them the power to hurt you.

Then it finally hits you. He’s talking about your date with that motherfucking movie star! That one was big news for a while. You got photographed two, maybe three times together.

You really looked like you were having fun in those photos. Truthfully, you were, he was such a funny guy. He knew how to make fun of himself. You were just so tired of pretentious asses. It was refreshing. That’s why you said yes to a second and a third date. Then he was off to a European country to shoot his next movie. You had a fun and it was more than enough for you.

You precisely remember that tabloids started to talk about how perfect you two were for each other. God, that must have gotten under his skin. You can’t help but laugh. He’s so predictable. He just couldn’t bear to see you with someone else, but can you blame him?

You remember seeing something similar about him, but in that case, he wasn’t on a date with the girl. They were just working together for some lame-ass project he would normally despise. Maybe he was trying to keep himself busy, who knows? You remember so vividly how she was looking at him like she wanted to eat him up. As if that wasn’t enough, she kept praising him, calling him the best rockstar of the century just to get in his pants. You have no idea if it worked or not, but it was enough to make you feel jealous. So can you blame him for feeling the same?

It just makes you realize you want to listen to those songs again. It’s maybe too little too late but you still want to hear him. You wanted him to talk about his feelings for such a long time and he’s finally doing it. Through a song but still, he’s doing it. It isn’t exactly communicating because communication must be two-sided, right? That’s what was missing in your relationship. You were talking, pleading, trying while he was keeping everything in. You feel like the roles are reversed. Now he’s the one talking, pleading, and trying, and you just don’t know what to do. How the tables have turned.

The second time around, you notice other details you missed the first time. Like peaceful walks you took together whenever you had the time or how you always used fake names when you two traveled together. You can’t help but miss those days. Even though you had problems, being with him always felt so safe and peaceful. You have no idea how he managed to make you feel that way. Maybe that’s why it took you so long to end the relationship. You still miss the way you felt back then. As if you two could overcome anything together, yet you couldn’t. Because you didn’t work together. You were alone, struggling to make him talk.

Then he talks about how he still speaks to your friends, and that makes him miss you even more. That part surprises you because none of your friends mentioned that they were still seeing Bucky. Is that because you didn’t let them ever talk about him? You feared if you let yourself talk or think about him, you would go back to the point zero.

He ends the song saying he doesn't want you to be a distant memory, and this sticks with you. Do you want him to be a distant memory?

The second time you listen, you notice how desperate he sounds. The way he pleads doesn’t anger you anymore. You find something you feel in his words. Your own fears, your own selfishness and oh, how much you miss him. You didn’t let yourself admit that you miss him. You thought acting like he never existed, he was never a part of your life would make everything easier and it did. Just for a while. Lately, it was just a burden. You tried so hard to keep everything inside. Just like he did. You are still trying to do it… to act logically, not emotionally. Does it mean you are making the same mistake he did? Shutting yourself down, not talking about your feelings. Is it the solution or is it a part of the mistake? You can’t tell anymore. You just know that your heart is aching. The sound of his voice makes you want to cry.

God, you hate him so much!

How could he do this to you after all this time?

Is it that easy to get under your skin or was he always there?

You feel like you are about to explode because of all the emotions you are going through. On one hand, Bucky communicating with you is everything you wanted. On the other hand, isn’t it too late? And why did he write not one but two songs about you? Declaring his love to the world…

You repeat that last bit in your head. He’s declaring his love to the world.

He’s no longer afraid to talk about his emotions. He wants you to hear them, millions of other people are just the bonus. He’s not afraid to show how fucking miserable he feels. He just wants you back.

He’s doing his bit in communicating, but unless you don’t do something about it, it won’t matter. It will be another attempt in vain. You aren’t sure if you want to repeat the same pattern. You notice the song is over when your phone chimes. It’s your best friend again.

>> Did you listen?

<< Yeah.

>> How are you feeling?

<< Confused.

<< Are you still talking to him?

>> Yeah we all are.

<< Why didn’t you tell me that?

>> You said you didn’t wanna hear anything about him and we just respected your decision.

Just like you thought. You can’t blame them. Anytime someone mentioned anything remotely related to Bucky, you either changed the subject or found a reason to leave. So you can’t help but wonder…

<< How is he doing?

>> Not great. He misses you.

<< I miss him too.

>> Are you gonna call him?

You look at the message for a long minute. Are you gonna call him? That’s the question. Maybe you should. Maybe you shouldn’t. Both of the options sound equally wrong. You have no idea what to do.

<< I don’t know what to do.

>> Just give him a call. He’s the love of your life.

You have no idea how long you have looked at that text. Maybe for a couple of minutes, maybe for an hour.

He’s the love of your life.

He’s a bastard, but he really is the love of your life.

And you are the love of his life.

Where do you go from here? You look at your phone once again. You finally know what to do.

810 notes · View notes

hunnylagoon · 1 month

Text

Take Me to War

PT2 Metaphor

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

Where do I pour my love if you take away my pen and paper?

Premise: You are starting to like your annoyingly loud neighbour more than you want to admit.

PT1 Here!

Warnings: Raunchy humour

The gym was busy on this particular day, I absentmindedly judged others for being at the gym at noon on a Saturday like they should have been doing something more interesting with their time until I realized I was at the gym at noon on a Saturday with no other plans for the rest of the day "And she's hot?" Abby asks me while she effortlessly benches something around 170 and I do nothing more than lean on the wall behind her.

"She's hot," I answer, scrolling through her feed on Instagram like the weird little stalker I was. I hadn't gone full FBI, just looked her up and possibly watched some of her videos "It's kind of cool that I have an internet celebrity living next to me."

"Define cool," Abby props the bar back onto the saddles of the machine and sits up, taking a chug from her water bottle.

"She is cool," I defend "It's not that weird Minecraft roleplay that your grimy cousins watch, it's just like video games and vlogs, that kind of stuff."

Abby looks back at me, sweat drips from her blonde hairline and rests above her brow "How is that even a career?"

I shrug in response "Sponsorships and donations and shit."

"Why do people throw so much money at streamers?"

"Parasocial relationships, I wrote an article about it last year which you said you read."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "You were writing a lot of articles, hard to keep up with."

"Define a lot," I mock Abby's words. I glance at a guy in between the rows of gleaming machines, their metallic frames reflecting the obnoxious glow overhead. He had been using the leg press upside down, his neck hunched over into an almost horrifying posture, his shoulders pressing against the top plate. It might've been the most normal thing I've seen in New York.

"So are you going to ask her out?"

I wrinkle my nose, thinking about it "I met her last week, I just don't think I know her that well." Within the past week that I've met her, I've been crawling out to the fire escape every morning just so her drowsy eyes could peer into my vacant skull and in recent months I had given up on dating, like a spider, I devoured my own heart.

"That's kind of the point of dating," She lays back down on the bench press "Getting to know each other."

"I think I'm too busy to date," I tuck my phone into my pocket, crossing my arms while I watch Abby. I wasn't entirely sure that I was too busy to date but I tended to consume myself entirely and make everything far more complicated than it needed to be. I still perform autopsies on conversations I've had years ago, clinging to every word like I need them to survive.

"Why don't you wanna be happy?" She asks, furrowing her eyebrows "You're always getting in your own way, is it a tortured poet type of thing?"

My breath hitches in my throat. How I hate when she's right. The last serious relationship I had was in college and even then I had sabotaged myself, I didn't know where it came from other than a nagging feeling that I wasn't deserving of the love that had been offered up to me on a shining silver platter. "I do I'm-

"Just not ready?" Abby cuts me off, finishing my sentence so perfectly as if it had been words on a script for some boring play about a woman who hates her life and won't do anything about it.

"Yeah," I say, my voice is quiet, she's got me in a box here.

"If you're not ready to date, you might as well be friends with her," She puts the bar back onto the saddles but this time, stands up after completing her reps. "You need to get out and it seems like you get along well."

"I guess," I say and Abby raises an eyebrow "No, you're right, I need to dig myself out of the grave I've dug for myself." What added to my overly apathetic mood was the season, I was so sick of February. It felt like winter had forced mold to grow on my bones to way me down onto the dirty city pavement where careless New Yorkers would gladly stomp over my body.

"How's it going with the family?" Abby is writing something down in her notes which I assume is her number of sets and reps.

"Nothing new," I answer.

She peers at me over her phone, digging for a more solid answer "Are you still sending your parents money?"

"Yes-

"Why?" Her arms dropped to her side, her phone still in one hand "You shouldn't have to play caretaker for two people who don't care about you," As true as it was, it didn't hurt any less to hear it out of my best friend's mouth.

"It's easier said than done, those are my parents," I'm almost overtaken by a delicate drowsiness from the thoughts of leaving behind the one connection I had to my small-town life. My parents were so careless that I would run around barefoot on the road with the neighbour's kids for hours, narrowly dodging cars that flew past us like it had been a game; everything was a game back then, when I came home to my father's drunkenness, I could hide away in the treehouse and read Harry Potter until the screaming came to a stop.

I was bonded to them like I was to the stray cats who raised me. There was no getting rid of them, we ricocheted between hatred and love like the game of catch I never got to play.

"I'm sorry," She says though I know it is ingenuine "I shouldn't get in between your family."

Abby didn't know them the same way I did. All she knew was the bloodiness of the relationship that I had cried into her arms, she didn't know how kind the wolves were after they tore me apart. The way my father would cheer for me the loudest at my soccer games and how my mother baked for me after a fight, wasn't the apology that I yearned for but the one that was shoved down my throat.

I dug through my brain to search for a way to change the topic "I saw Owen at the market yesterday and he said he wanted you to call him."

"You're fucking kidding."

My deadline had passed with no issue and I was finally blessing myself with a day where I wasn't chained to my desk. I could finally let my poor bloodshot eyes rest and for once I didn't have to drown them in eyedrops.

I was freshly out of the shower when I heard a knock at my door, Margot yelling at me to answer it. I slipped into a matching pyjama set that Abby gave me on my birthday, hurrying as fast as I could to the door. Margot's consistent screaming did nothing to aid this.

Ellie was the last person I expected to see on the other side of the door but there she was. I couldn't help the smile that cracked onto my face "Am I the one being loud now?"

She grins at me "No-it's just that my chat has been begging for you to come back all week and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do a stream with me?"

I looked down at what I was wearing and suddenly felt like the scrouge, all I was missing was a nightcap and a taper candle. "Can I change first?"

"Go ahead but I think this is one of your best looks."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow "You have poor judgement since you've never seen me in anything other than pyjamas."

"We should probably fix that then."

"I guess we should." I smile. I decided against changing, it wasn't like I was going out, just heading to my friend's apartment that was three feet away.

"Say as much or as little as you want," She opens the door to let me in "I owe you big time," Ellie says this like I don't want excuses to spend time for her. Like I haven't been freezing my ass off every day just to talk to her when she watches the city wake up as she prepares to rest her head.

Ellie's apartment is more lively than the last time I visited, she's adapted some plants that are already beginning to wilt "Have these been getting any sunlight?"

She furrows her eyebrows "No? They're fake."

"Ellie," I stifle a laugh "I'm like ninety percent sure that fake plants don't wilt."

"Nuh-uh," She walks toward one just rubs its wilting leaf between her thumb and index, it begins to crumble in her hand and she sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "I guess they are real," Ellie pokes a finger into the bone dry soil and wipes the dirt onto her pants "How much do you know about plants?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess more than you."

She nods "Sounds about right," Ellie walks over to her sink to fill a Game of Thrones mug with water before circling back to water her plants "Drink up little buddies."

"looks like you need some sunlight too," I watch her attempt to revive the dying plants and

"Yeah," She keeps hyper-focused on the plants but she cracks a small grin, I could've sworn her smile burnt down the library of Alexandria "I think I'm turning into a vampire."

"The sparkly kind?"

Ellie shakes her head as she stands back up to put the mug on the kitchen island "Like the guy from Sesame Street."

I wrinkle my nose "Yeah, you're looking kind of purple."

"Damn, I was worried you would notice," She smiles again as she opens the door to her office, the purple LED lights are still running but the overhead light is turned on and washes away the colour.

The second I step into the room, Ellie rushes ahead of me and almost jumps to grab the folding chair. She sits herself down and pats her fancy gaming chair for me to sit in it. "Guys, she came!"

I stare at her, eyes wide, jaw slack. "Ellie."

"What?"

"Do you hear yourself?"

She takes a minute to think about it before nodding her head, I could see the exact moment it clicked "No, I hear it," She addresses the camera "Not like that guys but I don't know what she did with her day, not our business though."

Ellie looks at me like she's waiting for approval of her chosen words. After a moment's reflection, I answer dryly "Thanks."

"Sorry for taking so long, I had to water some plants," She watches the chat bar scroll by, squinting before she leans back in her chair, hand running through her hair "No, that's not code for sex."

"Could be," I shrug.

"They wanna know what your name is."

"Top secret."

"Okay," She reads some more comments from the chat "Can you tell them what you do for work?"

"I'm a ghostwriter," I say, giving a little thumbs up. I saw myself in the monitor and wanted to throw my hands at myself for being so awkward.

"Spooky," Ellie smiles "She writes about people instead of interacting with them, that's why she's socially inept." She reaches for her soundboard and presses a button, sounding a prerecorded effect of a crowd cheering and laughing.

"She's never had a girl in her apartment, that's why she can't flirt." I counter as she throws her hands up, I can tell she's about to retort with something before I cut her off "So what were you doing before you kidnapped me?"

"Guys, I didn't kidnap her, she willingly walked in here without the use of excessive force and I have had many a girl in this apartment," Ellie tells the chat before clicking something on her screen "So, they send in videos and we have to not laugh, which isn't hard because they aren't very funny."

"You're not funny either but they watch you," I tease, Ellie fights a smile trying to uphold our image of back and-forth pocking and prodding at one another.

"Laugh three times and you're out."

"Of the apartment?"

"No, you just laugh three times and you lose."

"What do I get if I don't lose?"

"Fuck, I dunno," She furrows her eyebrows, searching the room for something. Her eyes land on a small silver tin, she snatches it up into the palm of her pale hand and sits back down "You get my dill dough."

"I'm sorry!?" My head snaps to look at her "Are you sure you aren't a cam girl?"

"No," She pauses "No, I mean no it's not what you think, yes," Ellie backtracks again "I mean I am sure I'm not a cam girl, not that that I'm not sure I'm not a cam girl, because I'm not," She looks like she's sure of what she said like it made perfect sense "Not a cam girl."

"You're not-not a cam girl?" I ask, pointing out the double negative "So you are a cam girl?"

"No," Ellie runs a hand down her face "Can you guys please tell her that I'm not a cam girl?"

Dcknb4llz:She's a cam girl

Nataliadepressed:I just subbed to her only fans!

Mclovin_fury26:She just wants to show you her dill dough 😕

Yayayalorde:I wish she was a cam girl

The3nd_isn3ar:Ellie pls stop joking about it and become a cam girl already 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Ewmarryme:hahaha Ellie ur so funny now get serious and make an onlyfans

"Anyways," Ellie ignores the chat as they clearly aren't helping her case "This is my dill dough," She shows me the small tin she picked up, there's a picture of a pickle on the front. Over the translucent lid, it surely enough says 'Dill Dough! pickle scented'. It was just green silly putty with an oddly incredulous name.

"I weirdly want that," I answer.

"If you win, it's yours." She tucks it away into the pocket of her sweatpants "Mods, let's get this moving."

We sit through about fifteen minutes of videos; mainly people getting hurt, occasionally one of some type of animal. Nothing funny enough to make either of us laugh except for one of a man falling through a glass table which gets a little chuckle out of Ellie who denies it.

Another video began playing, it was Ellie in this exact spot, screaming during a game of Fortnite. It looks like it's from the first time she showed me her odd job choice. In the distance, you can hear a knock on the door and this is when I'm sure it's from the day I had been thinking of. Ellie pulls her headphones off and looks at her camera "Shit, I think that's my hot neighbour again."

I slap a hand over my mouth and turn to see Ellie who's looking disappointed at her chat, shaking her head at the camera. "Whoever sent that is fake as fuck."

"So you think I'm hot?"

"Pfft, no, dude, you're ugly as fuck," Ellie makes an overexaggerated confused face like she has no idea what I'm talking about "I was talking about my other neighbour."

Kaylnncourting:Ellie y r u fumbling so bad???????

Overdam00n:You guys were right for saying she doesn't get 🐱🐱🐱🐱

Sestwouth:bruh she's ruining it for herself

Connerstollit:WHY DID SHE SAY THAT

Cruel_summer:What is wrong with Ellie? Genuinely

F0gg4t:If El doesn't want her, I do

Aliinnnnnaaaaa:First girl she's ever met and she's ruining it

Randelwthehandle:Ugly as fuck??????? who says that 😭😭

Dcknb4llz:wow nice cover up Ellie

Marie_739:Bro Im gonna start calling the girls I like ugly as fuck

"Mr. Quigley?" I ask to which Ellie nods immediately "You think the eighty-seven-year-old veteran who is missing a foot and has swallowed four of his teeth is hot?"

"Yeah," She says, immediately regretting the hole she was digging herself into "I have a thing for older men."

"I don't think you have a thing for men at all, actually."

Her eyes go wide, Ellie opens her mouth to say something and she leans forward in her chair so fast that she falls out and smacks her head on the desk, folding over and onto the ground. I have the biggest smile on my face as I reach for her soundboard and press the cheering crowd effect. I'm laughing too hard to offer her help, clutching my stomach and keeling over so my head is out of frame. Ellie gets up, and puts herself back in the folding chair pointing at the camera "Do not clip that."

Almost seconds after she says that a video gets sent in of her smacking her head on the desk in slow motion while I burst out laughing and now I'm cackling even harder. You can even hear her yelp in slow motion and she sounds like the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park "You guys are way funnier than Ellie," I say, addressing whoever was watching the stream.

Another video pops on the screen right after the last one ends, it's Ellie again. She screams at something on her computer and you can hear me bang on the wall on the other side. Ellie goes quiet immediately going back to her game and muttering "She's so hot guys."

"I think my mods hate me," Ellie shakes her head.

"Thank you mods!" I smile at the camera.

A little clip of Ellie back at her desk pops up, she's wearing a Garfield shirt. This time she isn't playing anything, she just sits in front of the camera with that familiar lopsided smile "Guys, how do I trick my neighbour into going out with me?"

There's another video, it's a longer one with the caption 'Ellie Williams calling her neighbour hot compilation' Ellie's eyes go wide and she clicks off the video immediately, the camera goes to us full screen. "That's enough of that."

I pull my phone out and type in the caption of the unfinished video into YouTube, it comes up right away and I click on it. Ellie clicks around on her computer, unaware of my viewing until she hears her voice, echoing in low quality from my phone. She reaches for my phone but I pull it closer to myself.

I'm dead set on finishing the video until something on the other side of the door, catches my eye. It rushes past the small crack in the slightly ajar door and instinctively, I drop my phone with a slight jolt "What the fuck is that?"

Ellie takes this opportunity to snatch my phone and place it face down on the desk, out of my reach. "That's just Kitty." She pushes herself out of the folding chair and steps out of the room. She walks back in carrying what looks to be a mound of cotton balls, looking a little closer, I realize it's a rabbit. He looks more fluff than flesh.

"What the fuck," My mouth falls open in awe "Can I hold it?" She places him in my lap "He just walks around your apartment?"

She nods "He's litter trained so he just kinda hangs out."

I pet him, he's soft as a million feathers, and he looks like a mascot for a paper towel company "You are the only person I know that would name their bunny Kitty."

Ellie tries to wipe off the mass amounts of rabbit fur on her, it seems the more she tries to get it off, the more firmly it refuses to budge. "This is a good time to show you guys this new shirt that Dina ordered for me," Ellie stands up walking off camera. She has a couple of Amazon boxes stacked on her couch, she reaches into one of them and pulls out a T-shirt. Ellie turns towards the wall so her back is facing me, she pulls her hoodie off over her head.

All I can see is the back of her sports bra but I force my eyes to go wide "Guys, Ellie Williams has a tramp stamp that says cum dumpster," I lie and the chat goes wild and I grab my phone off her desk as she turns around in her Five Nights at Freddie's tee with a 'Seriously?' face. I take a picture of her with the flash on "I'll sell this rare image of Ellie for six hundred dollars on eBay."

Ellie walks back over to the desk with a stack of Amazon boxes "Every donation goes toward my tattoo removal," She jokes, digging around in the boxes. "I'm a little over your videos, you bunch of snitches so I think it's about time I finally open these up."

I look in the boxes too, leaning over slightly, being very careful of Kitty where he sits in my lap. I see something and pull it out to hand to Ellie "You should try this one."

"World's hottest gummy bear," She reads the package "Why is there only one? What if I want another?" Ellie yanks the gummy bear, squishing it between her fingers. It looks like Red-40 personified.

Melanie_felony:She's setting her up lmao

Dcknb4llz:Nobody say anything pls I rlly wanna see this

Elliewsidechick:YALL SHES TOO WHITE FOR THIS STOP

She eats the gummy bear in one bite. As she begins to chew it, she seems absolutely unfazed and partially confused about why it was labelled 'World's Hottest Gummy Bear' A moment later she begins to cough, balling her hand up into a fist and pounding on her chest. Ellie's little cough quickly turns into a deep wheeze.

Ellie lets out a scream, her face going red as she slams her hand onto her desk with watering eyes. I could see visible sweat on her face as she dry heaved, it only took thirty seconds until she sprinted out of the room.

"Oh my god," I watch her run out of the room while I give Kitty a little pet between his ears, he's so still I almost think he's taxidermy. "Guys, I think we killed her." You can hear her vaguely screaming and gagging from the kitchen "So what did everyone do today?"

Thelastgreatamericandynasty:wrote a fanfic about you and Ellie

Dcknb4llz:I got jumped at waffle house

"Yikes, sorry to hear that." I suck a breath through my teeth "Tell me what I should know about Ellie." Her name feels so right on my tongue.

Jesse_chang:She's a virgin

D4aughter_:OMG HI JESSE

A_birthday_card:The only s3x she's ever had was in Minecraft

Whathasshegot:She has a crush on you

Touching_theyouth:She's lactose intolerant

Dcknb4llz:She sold me ketamine in an ally

Gusty_queefqueen:She homophonic

Torxhmydreams2:Pretty sure that’s two words that have the same pronunciation but different meaning

Gusty_queefqueen:Bruh it means she doesn’t like gay people

Heytheredelilah7:She has a boyfriend

When Ellie comes back she's filled her Game of Thrones mug with milk and has a bag of shredded mozzarella cheese. She reads the chat "Can you guys be cool for once?"

"They're cooler than you."

"Very funny," Ellie eats a handful of mozzarella before she digs back in the boxes "What's next?" There's one box huge envelope that looks like it has a slip of cardboard in it. Ellie tears the corner open with her teeth and rips the rest of the top off with her hands. She pulls the content out of it, throwing the envelope over the computer for it to land on the ground. Just as suspected there was cardboard in it, not just a slip but it unfolded into a cardboard cut out of Ellie, she looked to be a younger teenager in it, giving an awkward little peace sign and showing her green braces off with a huge smile.

"Aww, you actually look cute in that."

She disregards me "Chat, interrogate Dina about this and report back."

"Dina?" I ask "Is that your girlfriend?"

"Nah," Ellie props up the cardboard cut-out and places it behind us, right in the middle to watch over us "She's my enemy as of right now."

"What did she do?"

"Send this shit," She eats some more mozzarella, holding the bag out to offer me some, to which I decline. Ellie shrugs it off and eats another handful, washing it down with a long chug of milk and putting it on the desk. She grabs a t-shirt, he eyes go wide and she pushes it against her chest so I can't see. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," I watch a smile spread across her face as she turns the shirt around to show me a graphic of her on it. In the picture, her face is close up to the camera covered in a white powder (presumably flour). "Oh, wow!" I feign shock.

"I know!" She holds it out toward me "It's yours, you deserve it."

"Wow," I draw the word out, taking the shirt from Ellie "This is really great, I was always hoping I would get a shirt of you covered in flour." Sarcasm drips from tone but I accept the gift regardless.

"I know!" Ellie grins brightly "You should put it on now."

"That's fine, I think I'll save it for our date," I tease.

She perks up just the slightest "Ooo, when's that?"

"The second this stream ends."

"On that note," Ellie looks at the camera "Thank you guys for hopping on tonight and thank you to my neighbour who came here without putting up a fuss," Ellie clicks around on the screen a little bit before addressing them again "Alright, go bug Dina now."

With that the stream comes to a close, the blinking light on the camera turns off, and Ellie and I are left alone with ourselves and Kitty.

“So,” Ellie thumps her foot up and down repeatedly like those anxious kids in high school. “Do you maybe wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

“I don’t drink coffee but I’ll pretend to so I have an excuse to hangout with you.”

A smile splits onto Ellie’s face “Phew, I hate coffee I just thought it was an adult way to ask you out.”

A/N: This is super short but I’ll make up for it in the next part, thanks for reading! We got some angst on the way 👀

Perm tag-list: @veeveeisgay @whenlostinthedarkness @gold-dustwomxn @ellslvr

Series tag-list: @diddiqueen @camillecrellin @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @lmaoo-spiderman @camicocom1a @elliessweetheart @melanie-watermelon @lanafresitas

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lilac--sugar · 7 months

Text

But then... whatever in the world could you be?

Summary: Astarion wakes from a nightmare with something he can only explain as hunger. He thinks he knows what he needs and goes to the one person that can give him just that. (Late act 2 I'd say) Pairing: Astarion/Tav!Reader (gn!Tav) Though, I did write it with my Tav, Kieran, in mind (pictured above). If there are any mentions that contradict this please point it out and I will gladly adjust it! 💜 Rating: M (Mostly because my blog is rated M and I'm not ok with minors interacting with it. But this is a fluff piece really.) Content Warnings: Mentions of Cazador. Astarion curses once. Word Count: 2k Author's Note: Not betaed. I did my best to comb it over. If you see any mistakes please feel free to point it out! 💜 I really wanted to write this, though. I really wanted at least one scene for Astarion that showed him getting more comfortable/familiar with intimacy that wasn't sexual while also opening up a little more. So, I wrote this to satisfy that need for myself.

Darkness grasps at his mind. Ice cold claws digging in at the nape of his neck, piercing the warm numbness of his meditative sleep. He gasps, suddenly plunged into a state of paralysis.

The claws pull his head back, make him look up into a face he’d rather not see.

“You think you can escape me?” There’s a flame spitting anger through the words. Eyes like red embers flicker, bear down into his own. He trembles in the grasp.

“Just you wait, boy,” claws dig deeper, pain intensifying as it spreads down his neck and through his whole body. He’s powerless. He tries not to weep, can’t do it for his pride, “I’ll show you pain like you’ve never known.”

His eyes widen as Cazador grins, delight dancing in the embers at Astarion’s fear.

“N-“ his tongue is stuck on the syllable, wants to scream it out, ‘no! I won’t let you! No! You can’t get me here!’

Here? Wait… That’s right. This is just-

He gasps awake, pushing himself up.

“Gods,” he whispers to himself, presses his head into his hands, “it was just a dream,” he takes in a shaky breath, “a nightmare,” he corrects himself.

None the less his body continues to tremble, goose fleshed skin broken out into a cold sweat. The fire kept alive by those on watch does nothing to warm him.

It takes him a moment, a few deep breaths and finally he’s able to pull his hands away from his face. Fear mildly subsides as a new feeling settles in. A strong… craving? It radiates from the pit of his chest. A new kind of hunger he’s not felt before.

Hunger but he can’t even fathom walking away from the safety of camp. The safety of you.

His eyes roam the area before landing on your form.

You look so delicate cuddled down into your pile of pillows. An odd request he’d noticed. You weren’t shy of asking for compensation for your help. Gold and a pillow. Every time. A pillow.

A small huff of a laugh escapes his lips.

He’d remembered the bundle on your back. How it dwarfed you as you tried to carry them all during your travels. Astarion refused to help you then only to have Halsin step in like the big knight in shining armor he is. Astarion had gotten annoyed at the time. Blamed it on Halsin having spoiled his fun of watching you struggle. Truth was he felt a pang of something. He couldn’t place it. Just hated how you’d stared at Halsin all bright eyed, smile wide on your face. He wanted that look for himself. He’d felt the sun for the first time in centuries. But he wanted to know what it felt like to be warmed to the bone. Thought he’d find it there in that look.

Of course, he’d caught a glimpse of it. The night he finally admitted his whole scheme. Worried sick he’d messed everything up. Only you flipped it around with a simple embrace. Sun be damned. That was what true warmth felt like. He’d felt guilty for being rewarded with comfort and understanding for deceiving you. Didn’t understand you one bit for it but eternally grateful you had.

He wondered. You had told him earlier in the day he could feed on you. Day after day you offer and night after night he obliges. He’s grateful for your generosity.

It’s almost like clockwork now. How he crawls over to you. Each time he feels himself get more comfortable in the act. He used to hover over you like you were a bomb that’d set off any second. He used to barely touch you. Now he has no issue. He presses a hand to your shoulder, pushes you flat on your back. He watches with amusement as your body almost instinctively bares your neck for him, highlighted by the dancing fire beside you.

He slides a knee between your legs, getting himself as close as he can. He lowers his head down next to your neck, cool lips taking pleasure against warm skin. He breathes in. For a man that so claims to detest flowers he’d never admit it, but he thinks of you as one. His favorite one. A bouquet of wildflowers. Joyous and bright. Unpredictable. He’d come across you when he had nothing in return. An empty field of dirt. One touch from you and now he’s overgrown.

He can’t explain it, why he does what he does next. He doesn’t bite. Instead, he nuzzles into you. Nose pressing under your ear, tickled by the hair there. He takes in another breath that is you. Eases in a bit more, his arms sliding behind your back. If he had any less pride, he might have flung one of your arms over him.

A tremble passes through his body, a small sob catching in his throat.

You stir under him, a groan escaping from your own. He’s quick to pull away, thinks about dashing off. You never need know he was even there.

“Star,” sleep thick your voice comes out as a croak. He freezes, keeps himself hovering over you.

“What?” He blinks back tears. He’s not sure if the word is meant for him. You’d never called him such before.

“You think your parents named you Astarion because your hair is like starlight?” your speech is sleep slurred.

“Wh- I,” a man that has something to say about everything and you’ve rendered him speechless.

You raise a hand, fingertips brushing over his soft delicate curls that frame his face. Moonbeams are caught in his hair, causes it to glow like a gentle halo around him. Your hand drifts down, settles on his cheek. Fingertips brush just under his eye and you know.

You also know that if you point it out or make a big deal he’ll just fuss and huff off. So, you do the one thing you know he’ll accept. You roll yourself over, use all your strength and flip him onto his back over the nest of pillows you’d painstakingly created. Mischief. He has a soft spot for your displays of it.

“What are you-!?” He doesn’t get the words out before you’re flopping over him, mouth pressing to his neck, you playfully bite down.

“Get off me you fowl fiend!” he cries out.

A chorus of ‘shh’ raises up from the party around them.

“Oh, fuck off!” Astarion snaps back.

A small giggle escapes you as you nuzzle yourself down into him. An arm wrapping over his chest, leg curling around one of his. You know if he had truly been upset, he wouldn't have even let you get this far in the first place. Wouldn't have let you push him. Would have chided you and stormed off by now. Instead, you feel him melt into the pillows, arms slowly wrapping around you.

“You really want me off?” you mumble into his neck, needing to check anyway for good measure. He shakes his head.

“No,” He admits, voice a little watery. You go to pull back, worried you were perhaps wrong. Only, he wraps his arms tighter around your form, pulls you back into him.

“I uh,” He lifts a hand, it coming to cup your face, palm to jaw, fingertips over your lips, he settles your head back where it had perfectly fit just a moment ago, “I had a nightmare with Cazador, again,” He says and you nod.

“I won’t let him get you,” you mumble. A ‘tch’ of a laugh escapes him.

“Optimistic,” He chides.

“One of us has to be.”

“Naive.”

“Hopeful,” you correct.

He hums.

“I promise you,” you whisper, kissing over his fingertips.

Cricket song and the pop and fizz of fire fills the space around you. The need for distraction is clear.

A kiss turns to a bite and he pulls his hand away from your face.

“Will you stop that!?” He hisses and you grin.

“Taste of your own medicine.”

“Oh please,” He places his hand over your neck now, “When I bite it’s with a lot more care and finesse! You hardly ever wake up anymore and I’m at your throat every night.”

You grin, lips curling up at the corners and he thinks you look like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. He lifts his head to get a better look at you, can see the glint in your eyes.

“You hardly ever wake up anymore, right?” He asks. In response you bury your nose into the crook of his neck.

“You smell nice,” You mumble.

Exasperated, he drops back onto the plush pillows.

“You do keep changing the subject,” A faux agonized sigh leaves him, he’d never admit this was an all too welcomed distraction, “You are infuriating, you know?”

“What is it?” You ask, ignoring his complaints. You sniff at his neck, the small puffs of air causing his skin to tingle. He closes his eyes and focuses on not laughing.

“Hmm,” Your nose slips behind his ear, nuzzles into the soft curls there, “rosemary,” hesitant, you sniff again and this time you can feel him twinge with a bit of a laugh, “brandy for sure,” You pull back, hand pressed to his chest as you hover over him.

There’s a softness in his eyes, a smile delicately placed across his lips. His hair is glowing again in the moonlight.

“Go on then,” He says, smile turning to a grin, “what else?”

You shake your head, “Can’t pin the last one.”

“Bergamot.”

“Ahh,” You roll your eyes, “Bergamot,” you carry out the first and last syllable of the word, try to flourish it with his accent, “Fancy.”

“You know me, darling,” He raises a hand and presses it to your cheek, “understated with a dash of extravagant and exceptional.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up at his words. It startles him and another chorus of ‘shh’ breaks out.

“Sorry!” You whisper-shout. You duck your head into his neck, muffling the giggling as best as you can.

“I hardly think what I said was funny,” he’s trying to sound serious, but you can hear the hint of a pout to his words.

“Star, you’re about as understated as a beacon,” You pull back, a simmer of giggles still gently rolling from your chest, “Wait- Can I call you Star?”

“Uh-“

“It’s just that, your hair really does look like starlight and right now-“ well, right now you think if his body could, he’d be flushed all over, “While, yes, you are gorgeous. Sometimes I feel like when I’m with you, there’s this- light. Something,” The hand on his chest moves over his heart, “In there. It’s warm and beautiful, comforting. Like the north star, it guides me,” You’re talking a million miles a minute. Your sleep addled mind has no filter for your mouth. He stares at you, eyebrows raised, anticipating what you’ll say next even though he never knows and doesn’t know why he bothers to try, “to you.” You swallow hard, realizing you’d probably let yourself go a bit too far. His face hasn’t changed and so you try to dig yourself out, “And well- it is in your name, so-“

“Do shut up,” he says, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your lips. It’s different, chaste. Something new entirely and you kiss back, hoping not to break such a delicate thing.

“That would be fine,” He says as he pulls away, “But all this talking has made me rather tired, my love,” he flops back onto the pillows, “and I’d really rather not make the trek back to my bedroll,” he nestles himself back against your pillows, “Far too much hassle.”

“Right,” You nod, “completely.”

“Just don’t go thinking I’m doing this every night.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And it’s really all your fault since you pinned me here. So, if anyone comments in the morning you should admit as such.”

“Yes, dear,” you settle yourself into him, curling around him. He might sleep as stiff as a plank but you were going to make it work.

When you’ve fallen asleep he realizes he’s- happy. He feels satiated somehow without a drop of your blood. Don’t get him wrong, he’d probably partake in the next few hours. But for now, right now, the pit in his chest felt full.

“Gods, where were you?” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your forehead. A sleepy groan leaves you as you stir, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt over his heart.

Perhaps. Perhaps you were there the whole time. The seed of his hopes. Every damned prayer he said to every God. Someone listened, someone took that tiny seed and from it grew you. And here you were, though not to ruin him. No. But to help him.

“Took you long enough,” He mutters, a small laugh escaping him. He takes your hand in his own, lets your warmth sink into his fingers. He couldn’t just yet bring himself to thank whatever God made it possible. He thought maybe one day. Right now he didn’t care much for anything beyond the two of you right here.

For the first time in a long time he dreams of life in the sunlight. You there next to him, as he basks in the warmth of your bright eyes and wide smile.

My masterlist

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tav #ficlet #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #astarion fluff #fluff #tav fluff #Astarion fic #tav fic #astarion x reader

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wannab-urs · 4 months

Text

Title: Harsher Than the Bark

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javi makes you feel things you’ve never felt before, will never feel with anyone else, but he can’t – or won’t – love you.

Tags: smoking, probably shit spanish, smut, angst, fingering, squirting, unprotected PiV, probably unrealistic amount of orgasms (like 4 idk it’s kinda vague, choking/breath play, Javi has dom vibes but it’s not like BDSM he’s just bossy, one “good girl,” begging, religious imagery because Javi makes you see god, biting, that one position from that one scene – you fucking know the one, excessive cursing because it’s me and I refuse to change, Javi is a cuddler, emotionally unavailable!Javi, references to past arguments/past hookups because this has been an ongoing thing and I love to start in the middle of a story. Based on 505 by Arctic Monkeys, (being annoying and posting at 5:05 am) No beta we die like Oberyn WC: 1.4k

A/N: I kind of wrote this in a fever dream, I literally don't even know if it's any good. It's sort of a planned three parter, but I'm not putting pressure on myself to finish it, so each part can stand completely alone. If I write all three, it'll be called In the A.M. as in In the Morning but also because they're all based on Arctic Monkeys songs. Hope you like it <3

Series Masterlist | Javier Peña Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

The knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark

Javier Peña is probably the best fuck you’ve ever had in your life. Actually, scratch that. He’s definitely the best fuck you’ve ever had in your life. He makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. Coming three times in one night with him is the absolute bare minimum. He loves it when you scream for him. Does everything in his power to get you a noise complaint from your neighbors.

And God is he gorgeous. Long and lean with strong arms, broad shoulders, a tiny waist, a perky ass. His nose looks like it was carved off a greek statue and placed on his face. He’s got these big sad brown eyes, full lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, and a jawline that could cut glass. You’re probably in love with him.

You put out your cigarette when you hear the door open, lay back in the bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s five in the morning, but you never turn him away. No matter what time.

“Shouldn’t leave the door unlocked, hermosa,” Javi’s deep drawl drifts across the room to you.

“Knew you were coming. Didn’t wanna have to get up.”

Javi drops his shirt on the floor and crawls up the bed, draping himself over you and pressing a kiss to your lips. “No es seguro, cariño. Anyone could walk in.” (It’s not safe, baby).

“Lo que sea, Javi.” (Whatever, Javi). You roll your eyes at him. “It’s locked now, no?”

Javi drags his lips along your jaw, nips at your throat, drags a finger through your folds. “Wet already, baby? Were you thinking of me?”

You were, but you kind of hate him for being right. “Fuck you, Jav–” his name drags out into a moan as he stuffs two thick fingers inside you. He pumps his fingers in and out a couple times before curling them up into the spongy spot inside you. You throw your head back in pleasure, back arching and hips thrusting so that you’re practically riding his fingers.

He wraps the fingers of his free hand carefully around your throat. “Mírame.” (Look at me). You force your eyes open and he’s so close you could count the individual hairs in his mustache. You look into his eyes with so much adoration, so much love, he has to look away. He squeezes your throat tighter and you close your eyes again as your cunt tightens on his fingers.

He rubs circles on your clit in time with the thrust of his fingers, feeling you wind tighter and tighter around him. His hand on your throat isn’t blocking air, but you still can’t catch your breath. When your body is so tense it feels like you’ll shatter into a million pieces, he releases the hand on your throat. You gasp in a big breath and fall apart in his hands. He works you through it with firm, slow strokes.

Just as you feel yourself start to come down, he picks up the pace again. He places the hand that was on your throat on your pelvis, holding you down on the mattress and rubs his thumb in quick, hard circles on your clit. He pumps his fingers into you hard and fast.

“Come for me, hermosa. Come all over my hand.”

Your vision whites out and you let out a near agonized scream as you clench around his fingers and gush all over him. Javi pulls his fingers out of you and slips them into your mouth. You suck the taste of yourself off his fingers.

“Good girl,” he growls in your ear. He stands up, leaving you panting on the bed, and strips his jeans off. He strokes himself as he gets back on the bed, hand still slick with your cum. He pulls your thighs over his and you wrap your legs around him. He drags his cock through your folds and watches you shudder.

“You’re soaked… You want me to fuck you?” The bastard is teasing you. You whine his name. “Las palabras, cariño.” (Words, baby).

“Need you, Javi. Please. I need you so bad,” you’re desperate, aching for him. He taps your clit with the head of his cock one more time before lining up with your entrance and pushing in. You let out an absolutely wrecked moan, voice breaking as he bottoms out.

He leans forward, planting his hands on either side of your head and pulls out before plunging back down inside you. He has your hips tilted almost vertically, driving you down into the mattress with every thrust. You dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders and drag them down his back, making him groan into your neck.

Fucking Javi is always a religious experience. You find salvation and damnation at once in his arms and you swear you see God himself when you come on his cock.

Javi doesn’t slow down despite the way you clench around him. He often works out his frustrations in your body, tries to bury them and himself in you.

He pulls out and flips you over by your hips, sheathing himself inside you the second you’re on your knees in front of him. He fists one hand in your hair and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping the other hand around your breast.

You lay your head on his shoulder and let the pleasure wash over you, lose yourself in it completely. You only exist in this moment, the pleasure and pain melding to form something divine inside you. He bites down on your neck and you come on his cock again, and you think you scream. You aren’t quite sure.

Javi groans as he slams into you one, two, three more times and collapses forward onto the bed, trapping you under him. He stays inside you for a few more moments, nuzzling your neck. His lips catch your ear lobe as he pulls himself out of you and falls to the bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, curling his body around yours, and holds you close.

You lie in silence for a long time, just listening to each other breathe. This has become routine. Javi has a bad day at work and takes it out on your body in this bed. He never talks about it, about why he needs such a frenzied release, but you can guess.

Sometimes, though, he’ll talk about growing up in Laredo or about a nice dinner he had with Connie and Steve or about an op that went well. Sometimes he lets you see beneath his hardened exterior.

The truth is that you’re definitely in love with him. But Javi won’t ever be with you, not in the way you want. Javi won’t commit to being with you because this, what you just did, is all he thinks he deserves and all he knows how to do. He loves making you feel good, takes pride in making you come over and over and over. He loves making you moan and whine and scream for him. He loves it when you tell him how good he feels, how perfect he is, how pretty his cock is. He just doesn’t love you.

He always curls up with you, snuggles you close, clings to you. But if you bring up wanting something more, something defined and committed, he fucking runs. He can give you himself physically, but he can’t let you near his heart because it is rotten and caving in and no good. And you? You are good. He can’t touch you with that. The dark and broken part of himself. He can’t infect your good with his bad.

You know this and yet…

A tear slips from your lashes, trailing down your cheek and falling onto the arm tucked under your cheek.

“Cariño, ¿por qué lloras? (Baby, why are you crying?) He sounds… fucking anguished. “¿Te lastimé?” (Did I hurt you?)

“It’s nothing, Jav.”

Javi sits up, grabs your face in his hands and makes you look at him. “It’s something. Dime.” (Tell me).

“If I tell you, you’ll just fucking leave again, Javi. I can’t do this right now. Just hold me, please? Be here when I wake up?”

Javi searches your eyes for a moment. You aren’t sure what he sees there. Heartbreak? Resignation? Desperation? Whatever it is convinces him.

“Sure, yeah. I can do that.”

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homestylehughes · 3 months

Text

quinn hughes- drowning

summary: when y/n is drowning in her love for Quinn, and feels the need to step back from him. what happens that Quinn is also drowning in her love too?

wc: 1.9k OMFGG HELLOOOOOOO???? this the longest fic I've ever wrote. holy fuck.

authors note: dun dun dun I'm backkkkk. ive had free time because of my classes being cancelled because of the weather. so I decided to sit down and write about quinny today <3. I hope you guys enjoy this is the longest fic I've everrrr wrote. make sure to reblog if you like enjoy it. as always much loveeeee.

Everyone told me not to fall in love with Quinn hughes. I told myself not to fall in love with Quinn Hughes. That It would be impossible for him to ever love me back in the way I loved him.

Obviously I didn't listen.

I fell head over heels in love with him. I was sinking, no I was drowning. Nothing could pull me out now. I was in too far deep, I was in too far deep to care that I was in love with Quinn hughes. It was so hard not to care, it was so hard to not fall in love with him. Longing gazes when we were out with our friends. The way he'd put his hand on my lower back when guiding me through a crowd. The way he’d listen so intently to things I would say. Everything little thing he did pulled me into him, everything he did pulled me under. I was drowning, I couldn't seem to care.

That's what led me to this.

I knew that I was deep, I needed space. I haven't seen or talked to Quinn in over 2 weeks. I told myself I needed to distance myself from him. If I could pull myself away from him, then I could pull myself out from drowning in him.

So I threw myself into my job, taking as many stories as I could from my boss. Declining dinners and drinks from my friends, from quinn. Ignoring his texts and declining his calls. I thought what I was doing was the right thing to do, it seemed like the easiest thing to do. I knew if I ever admitted to Quinn that I was in love with him, he wouldn't feel the same way. I'm trying to save myself a heart break, but what's the point? My hearts are already breaking by doing this.

When the 3 week mark hit of not talking to quinn i felt better. Kinda. I still miss talking to him, actually scratch that, i miss everything little thing about him. I continue to tell myself that this is for the best. Do I even know what I want, is this even for the best? The texts and calls from Quinn stopped showing up. He gave up on me, no i gave up on him. I did this and it's for the best. Even though I repeated this to myself everyday, I still felt I was making the wrong choice.

My friends finally convinced me to leave my apartment. Making me put in the tightest outfit possible, and pulling me into the nearest bar. I make a beeline to the bar, ordering a drink to hopefully calm my nerves and help relax me. Being here in this bar made me remember how much I hate bars. It made me remember how much I miss Quinn.

We make our way to the table with trays of drinks in our hands, tonight is going to be a good night. Well I thought it was. As I glanced up to see where one of my friends went, my eyes landed on her with a group of men. Men that look very familiar to me. My eyes drift left of my friend, and land right on Quinn. Our eyes meet for the first time in over 3 weeks. My heartbeat starts rising immediately, and suddenly I feel like I'm drowning again. The dress I'm wearing seems even tighter, and the bar feels like fire all around me.

I need to get out of here, I say to myself. My eyes trying to find the next exit, I turn to my friend y/f/n and say “hey, I'm going to go outside, I need some fresh air. I'll be back in a second!!”. I don't wait for her reply, I turn on my heels, quickly moving towards the closest exit.

The minute I step outside it hits me. Quinn. Quinn is really here. Quinn, my best friend, the man im inlove with is here. The man I've ignored for almost a month or more with no explanation is here. It hits me, I'm a terrible person. Why did I do that to him, why did I do this to us.

I need to go home now. Home. Home. Home. was the only thing on my mind.

My hands are shaking trying to pull up uber to get a ride home. Anywhere is better than here right now, this is all too much. As I'm going to hit “Confirm payment” on the car ride home. I hear an all too familiar voice shout my name.

This can't be happening. No No No.

The next thing I know is that Quinn is standing right in front of me. “y/n” he breathes out at me. I can't move, I'm frozen. I'm in shock, this can't be real. “y/n” he repeats. I finally looked into his eyes, my eyes dragging all over his face. Everything is as perfect as I remember it. “Quinn” I finally uttered while looking at the ground. I wish I was dreaming. I wish that what's happening isn't real. I can't even look him in the eyes. I wish it was a dream, and that when I woke up this was all fake.

This definitely isn't a dream.

“You know you fucking suck.” Quinn says. I know I do, I think to myself. As I go to open my mouth to say something. He starts again “I haven't talked to you in over a month. You've been ignoring me. And the first time I see you again with your friends at a bar?!?!”. I can't even look at him, continuing to stare at his Nike covered feet. My eyes filled with tears. I hear him take another deep angry breath. “SEE??? You can't even look at me, you can't even look me in the eyes. You won't even give me an explanation. You know that's really shitty of you y/n.”.

I'm crying now. I'm sobbing. Everything he's saying is true. I am a terrible person, this is all my fault I know. I know.

I heard him scoff and began to walk away. I can't let this happen, I can't let this happen again. “QUINN” I shouted, finally finding my voice. His steps immediately stop, he slowly turns around. I can see the anger and sadness in his eyes.

This time I'm approaching him, taking a shaky breath. Trying to gather the words that I don't have to say. “I know you hate me right now. I know that you want answers, hell you want an explanation on why i haven't talked to you in over month.’’ My breath labors for a minute, I'm sobbing, the tears are flowing, my chest is rising, I'm not ready for this. I know nothing I say is ever going to change what I did to him.

I try to take deep breaths but each one I take makes the tears fall even harder. Here I am crying on the sidewalk in front of my best friend. who might not even be my best friend anymore. Trying my best to give him an explanation on why I've been so horrible to him. Why I've cut him out of my life just because I love him. Oh god i love him, how do i tell him that??

I feel a hand wrap around my arm, that quickly pulls me back to reality. “Hey hey y/n, pretty girl please look at me.” I'm still sobbing at this point, I don't think the tears will ever stop. I slowly take my eyes up to his face. “That's good, now take a deep breath for me, in and out come on i know you can do it.” he says. Quinns hands are now on my cheeks trying to help me calm down.

My breathing starts to slow down, my tears let up a little bit. Our eyes are still locked, never once leaving each other. I know I need to say something. I know I need to tell him how I feel. I slowly pull away from quinns hold, I'm now again looking at his feet. I take a deep breath, it's now or never I think. “I fell in love with you. Fuck quinn i was drownding in you. You were my best friend and I couldn't feel that way about you. I know you'd never want me in the way I wanted you. I needed space, I thought that if I was away from you it would help my feelings, that somehow I could get over it?? That I could forget about you?? I don't know!?!?! Just move on??”. “But seeing you tonight made me realize that I could never get over you, and that I could never stop loving you.”

The tears on my face are falling like waterfalls, I sadly chuckle to myself as I try and wipe them away as more fall. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Nothing I say will probably make you forgive me. I understand i really really fucked up. But I won't say sorry for loving you. I love you and it's okay if you don't love me.” I finally looked into Quinn's eyes, searching for anything. Anything.

Before I can even register what's happening, Quinn’s hands are grabbing my face, pulling my lips to his. The kiss is fast, it's full of love and anger, sadness. All of the above. My lips struggle to keep up with him, my hands make their way to the back of his head, pulling him into me by the ends of his hair. A groan escapes his lips, as he pulls me even closer into him, if it's even possible. Our lips are moving at lightning speed, we can't get enough of each other. I don't want to ever stop kissing Quinn, it feels too good to ever want to stop.

It feels like 5 years go by before Quinn pulls his lips from mine. Our chests are rising steadily. Eyes blown, swollen lips looking back at each other. “I've wanted to do that since I met you,” he says. My head is spinning, nothing that just happened feels real. Quinn sighs, grabbing my hands in his, his eyes never leaving mine. “I wish you would have told me how you felt. You would have known that I also love you. I've loved you for years. I thought i lost you y/n, i was going crazy with you. I thought you hated me. Baby I was drowning in you, I thought you knew, I wish you knew sooner.”

Quinn loves me? Quinn. Love. Me. my eyes are wide, his mouth is parted waiting for my reaction. Waiting for me to say something. I'm crying again before I know it again. A smile breaks on lips, i'm laughing, quinns laughing. I'm not sure if we know why. I pull his lips towards mine again. Feeling his smile on mine. “I love you''. I whisper to him in between each kiss. “I love you” he whispers back.

I could drown in him forever, if it's on a sidewalk in front of a random bar. If it's a bed, a car. Hell even in a movie theater. I'd always drown for Quinn Hughes.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #quinn hughes #vancouver #vancover canucks #quinn hughes x reader

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rancidpancakebatter · 2 months

Text

For Him - [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x Depressed!Reader

Summary: You were fine. He doesn’t understand. You were fine. You had been a little distant lately, but he had learned that was a pattern for you. When the months got colder and the nights got longer, you needed an adjustment period. Your space would get messy, and your naps would get longer. But you were always fine.

Word Count: 7.0k

Content: THIS FIC IS CENTERED AROUND A DEPRESSIVE EPISODE. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMTION.

Depression, language, Mentions of self-harm, Mentions of suicide ideation, friends to...open to being more?, Whump comfort, No actual harm comes to the reader, Happy Ending

( Masterlist )

A/N: I'm trying to get back into writing (I know I've said that before) and while my series are on pause, I've been trying to get back into a schedule with it. This piece is very personal to me and is very much something I wrote for myself. I'm sharing this only because I hope it can bring others the comfort it brought me. Or something close to it.

“Peter- Peter, please fix it!” Peter watched you helplessly as you continued to sob.

Your cries ripped from your chest, and you wished to reach inside the fresh gashes, grasp your heart, and grind it to dust. Anything to make it stop. It felt as if the tissue of your cardiac muscle was pulling itself apart, each painful pump shredding the fragile tissue further. You weren’t sure how much more you could take- how many beats you had left in you. You felt delirious.

It’s common knowledge that when your body is going through immense pain, such as breaking a bone, it goes into shock. Your sympathetic nervous system shuts off momentarily because your brain makes the executive decision that you can’t handle it. You wondered how much pain you could withstand before your body tapped out.

Everything was too much. Your brain couldn’t keep up. Neither could Peter. He watched on in horror as you screamed, clawing at the carpet, pushing your face into the ground, cradling your stomach, and rolling back and forth.

You were fine. He doesn’t understand. You were fine. You had been a little distant lately, but he had learned that was a pattern for you. When the months got colder and the nights got longer, you needed an adjustment period. Your space would get messy, and your naps would get longer. But you were always fine.

You had been ghosting Peter for six days (after two weeks of not seeing each other and you flaking on plans), and he had had enough. In his line of work, he tended to worry, however irrational that worry was, it was still there, palpable. You hadn’t been to class all week, he went to your job to surprise you, but you weren’t there either. He thought maybe you were upset with him, but the nagging thoughts racing through his mind couldn’t let you be. If something was wrong, he needed to know.

Peter has had a key to your place since you moved in. He was the only person you trusted, and you knew that sometimes he hated going home, finding it hard to leave “work” at work. You loved that your apartment was a safe place for him. Somewhere, he could rest his head and forget, for a moment, about Spider-Man and return to Peter Parker.

To say your place was a mess was an understatement. You were respectfully tidy; your space consistently looked lived-in, as opposed to Harry’s place, which always looked like a catalogue.

The smell of rotting food triggered his gag reflex momentarily. He soon got his bearings and saw dishes piled everywhere; the full plates looked almost untouched. Various fast food containers littered every surface. Clothes were draped over random furniture, and he could smell you too. He didn’t smell your strawberry shampoo and cocoa butter lotion but rather sweat and musk.

He entered cautiously, calling out to you, but heard no response. He surveyed his surroundings, looking for any possible distress. He worried for a minute that his Spidey-Sense™ wasn’t working. Obviously, something was wrong, but his sixth sense remained dormant in his nerves.

Then he heard it, breathing, a heartbeat. He moved in its direction, slowly approaching the couch. Curled up in a ball, you lay there, surrounded by malodorous clutter. You looked very uncomfortable slotting yourself between mounds of tupperware and dirty clothes. He called out to you again but got no response.

He lept over the back of the couch, landing in front of you, disregarding anything in his path. He brought a hand to your face and the other to your exposed wrist, checking for a pulse. You turned your face away from him, and he felt a rush of emotions surge through him.

Firstly, he was elated: you were alive, your pulsed drummed with the precision of a seasoned battlefield drummer, and you didn’t seem to have a fever or show any other indications of illness.

Secondly, he was angry: he hadn’t heard from you in a week, but he sees your phone on the floor in front of him. You were trying to move away from his touch as if his hand on your face was the broccoli your mother demanded you eat before leaving the table. And when he called to you, you didn’t respond- despite very obviously being awake.

Then, he was worried: he watched as your fingers trembled, your hand limp as he held your wrist. You looked dull, as if someone had turned down your saturation, drowning you out in the background of surrounding hues. Your eyes were glassy, seemingly unfocused as you stared ahead. You looked despondent, a husk of his dear friend.

He called out to you again, and you let out a small whimper. He was beginning to panic. You, on the other hand, were trying to find the will. The will to care, to respond, to look at him, to live.

“(Y/n), can you hear me?” again, you gave him nothing, and he felt panic rise in him again.

“(Y/n), come on, you gotta give me some sign of life.” You focused all of your energy, fighting desperately against your brain, and blinked, long and slow.

“Was that on purpose? Was that your response?” You blinked again, and Peter felt his chest tighten.

“Are you okay? You’re freaking me out, Bubs.” You blinked twice, and Peter stopped for a moment.

“Is two blinks a ‘no’?” You blinked again.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, and you realised he was stressed. You wanted to care so badly. Your friend was hurting, and it was your fault, and you couldn’t even care. Some friend you are. Peter deserved someone better, someone who could be there for him, someone who didn’t completely fall apart when the world became too heavy, someone who could convince themselves that breathing was a good thing. You felt someone shaking you.

“Hey! (Y/n), come back to me, buddy!” You blinked again, and the shaking stopped, but you could still feel his eyes boring into you.

“I asked if you were on drugs. Are you overdosing right now?” You blinked twice. You were feeling tired again. How ridiculous that you can lay here all day, but having to blink is too exhausting? You let out a yawn, and Peter relaxes some.

“(Y/n), can you try and talk to me? I’m freaking out here.” With a great amount of effort, you opened your mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

It was barely audible; your voice croaked due to its inactivity. You blinked a few times, forcing yourself to look at him. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes were wet. You had done that. The ache in your bones grew and spread at the realisation. Peter just shook his head.

“I don’t need you to be sorry; you need to tell me what’s going on.”

To anyone else, he would have sounded cold, but you knew this tone. Peter was working a case, searching for clues, answers. You were dealing with Spider-man. You felt bad that you had drawn that out of him, that he was so distressed he had to put on his suit of armour.

How could you tell him? There was nothing going on. Not one thing, at least. It was a bunch of small things that you were handling like a baby. Your parents were upset with you, your grades were slipping, your job was stressful, you were constantly fatigued, and everything just felt like so much work. Work that you didn’t sign up for. Work that you were done doing.

“(Y/n), what’s going on?”

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice at you, but he was growing annoyed with your crypticness. He wanted to help you- wanted to make sure you’re okay- and he couldn’t do that if you didn’t tell him.

You let out some sharp breaths that almost resembled crying, but no tears left your eyes. You wondered if you had run out; if your brain had decided you had met your quota and had cut off your supply. Or maybe you were just so dehydrated that you didn’t have enough water to spare.

You watched as a single tear rolled down his cheek. You had made him cry. You were uncaring and cruel. You were hurting him. You were a shitty friend. He was so worried about you, and you did nothing to ease his concern. He had called you many times, and you would watch as your phone danced on the table. You would listen to his voicemails, at first light-hearted before quickly turning to panic. You stopped listening to them three days ago, unable to process his emotions as well as your own.

“Bubba, please. What is going on with you? You haven’t answered my texts, you haven’t been to class, you haven’t been to work. I’m really worried. Please, please talk to me.”

He was begging and the thought broke your wretched heart. You attempted to curl more into the couch, to hide away from the pain you saw in his eyes. His hand on your shoulder stopped you, and you didn’t have the strength to resist.

“I’m sorry.”

You watched as Peter’s face contorted wildly between emotions: anger, fear, concern, sorrow. He chewed on his lip as he looked you over again. His mouth gaped as if he was tripping over his words before they could even leave his mind.

“Why? What-? Did you do something?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

How could he even ask that? He knows what you did. He had just listed half of your offences. How could he even stand to look at you? You were a monster, vile and vicious.

You blinked again, and Peter frowned. You knew he wanted to hear you speak, that it would ease his worry, but you couldn’t. Saying the words is hard, flexing all those muscles to use your voice. Too much. It was all too much.

“What did you do?”

You can hear the fear in his voice. It makes you sick to your empty stomach. The weight of his question weighed on your chest.

You knew what he was asking. It was a question you had been asked many times by your parents, by professionals, and your friends. You had lost many over the question. Some of them running away screaming at your honesty. Others have told you it’s not your fault, they just can’t carry the weight. So they leave you to carry it on your own.

You recognised the way his eyes quickly darted to your wrist, then moved to any possible exposed skin. You saw the way he checked his surroundings, looking for anything there. You knew what he was looking for, even if he didn't.

You almost wanted to laugh at that. It was funny to your fucked up brain. They always want to know. They insist on it. They have to know if you’ve done something to yourself as if their knowledge could rewrite time and change futures. As if they know they have the special combination of words that would make you see the light and bring you back. As if they could say something-- anything --you hadn’t heard before. But that wasn’t the funny part. The funny part was being right.

You knew that it was getting bad again. You knew if Peter saw you like this, he would get scared. You knew he would assume the worst. And here he was, doing just that. The funny part was knowing that when people see depression, they expect it to just be this, and if it’s not, you’re fine. And when it does look like this, you must be suicidal.

And honestly, you wish you were. And you shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. At least then you could do something with it. But instead, you’re curled up on your couch, immobilised, waiting for the storm to pass. You look and feel pathetic. But for now, it’s funny. Mostly because you can’t handle how frustrating this is.

You tug your sleeve down, and Peter’s eyes track the movement, tracing over the smooth skin as it’s revealed. His body remains tense even as you stop. You move the other one, and he’s just as attentive. When both wrists are revealed to be fine, you expect him to relax, but he doesn’t.

You watch as his chest rises and falls, not quickly but noticeably. As if he’s trying to stay calm. You appreciate that, though feeling like a bit of an ass for it.

He takes a deep breath, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “So then, why are you sorry?”

He looked at you expectantly, and you felt like crying again. It was too much. You knew what you had done, how shitty you had been. It’s all you could think about as his calls continued to go unanswered and your filth continued to pile around you. But he was asking too much. You didn’t want those words to leave your lips. You didn’t want him to hear them.

If he did, he might realise you’re right. He’d leave you here, and you’d never hear from him again. He’d be another soul lost to your devastation. Another broken person you made by knowing you. He’d realise how you tainted him, recognise you as sickness, and cut you off. And you couldn’t be mad at him when he did it. Because he would be right.

Or he would defend you. All that Peter Parker love pouring from him, insisting that everyone is good and deserves a chance. He would ignore all of your words, writing them off as nonsense. And maybe, maybe you’d start to believe him. You’d let him convince you that you’re okay. But soon, he would realise that he was wrong about you.

Either way, he would leave you. So maybe if you push him now, it won’t hurt so bad later. If you don’t let him build you up, you won’t fall as far.

So you said nothing, holding his gaze until you couldn’t anymore. His face shifted again, and you couldn’t take it. It was too much. It was your fault. You managed to roll over from your side to your stomach. You paid no mind to the various objects falling off the couch; you didn’t care that Peter had to dodge the debris. Especially when it distracted him long enough to let you hide. You buried your face into your crossed arms but didn’t close your eyes, the dark pocket you created being more than enough.

You felt hollow. Like life had finally broken you, taken everything that you were. You weren’t yourself anymore, just a husk. One that wouldn’t eat, or change clothes, or leave the house. But you weren’t empty. No, you had been carved out, but disgust and anger filled you now. But those big feelings left you feeling tired, tired constantly. No sleep was restful, no break long enough. It was baked in, carried in your bone marrow.

Peter was silent and you listened closely to his breathing. You couldn’t understand why he hadn’t given up yet, why he was sticking by your side. So you told him to leave.

You waited patiently for him to shout, for his footsteps to fade away, but he didn’t. He remained there, where you could feel his eyes on you. It was pissing you off.

“Leave!” you tried again, the sharpness of your tone muffled by the couch cushions.

You waited again, and this time, you heard movement. You heard a piece of silverware land softly on the coffee table and trash move around the floor. Finally, you thought. But then you felt a weight lean against the couch, then soft noises coming from a phone.

You peeked your head out to see Peter sitting on the floor, his back against the couch, scrolling through Instagram. He didn’t chuckle or laugh. He wasn’t really looking at his phone. His eyes were darting over to you every few seconds. You knew he knew you were watching him. This game went on for a long time. Nearly an hour passed in silence, one watching the other.

“I’m not leaving,” he said eventually, “not without you.”

That exhaustion was melting now, and all that left you with was anger.

“Fuck you,” you spit, then tucked your head back into your arms.

“I don’t think you mean that.”

Oh, fuck him. You snapped up, your arms supporting your body as you glared at him from the couch. He looked surprised, but not frightened. Peter had put himself in a terrible position. You were swirling with hatred, and now he had made himself a target. You couldn’t help the words tumbling from your mouth.

“You don’t get to tell me what I mean!” you shouted, your voice crackling like flames. “You don’t get to tell me how I feel! You don’t get to come in here where you’re not wanted and fuck with me. I don’t want you here! I don’t want to see you again!”

He winced at your words, and that made you feel a little powerful. You were hurting so much, seeing him feel a fraction of it made it feel smaller.

“I haven’t talked to you in days and you think, ‘Oh, I’ll just pop over.’ What a fucking joke!”

You laugh, though there’s no humour in it.

“I was worried.”

His eyes are wet again– his voice is so small –like he was seconds from breaking.

Good. Let him break as I have. Maybe then he can see, and understand. Or maybe he’ll leave, get the hell out of dodge. Doesn’t matter.

“No, you were selfish,” You bite. “You got lonely and figured I would be there. You didn’t want to think I just didn’t want you anymore, so you showed up. Because you know no one comes looking for you. Not without the suit.”

You watch as he recoils. He’s looking at you like a monster, and he should. You are. His mouth hangs open, his eyes locked onto yours. The air feels stiff, like a sheet of glass waiting to be shattered. He sniffled a little, and suddenly you didn’t feel so powerful. The game’s not fun if he’s not yelling back. He’s not telling you that you’re right or wrong, he’s not mad. He’s just hurt.

The anger drops from your face and now your eyes are wet too. You feel like you might vomit, but you know that’s just a bluff. You can’t remember the last time you ate something. Or more than three bites. Food doesn’t smell yummy anymore; it doesn’t taste flavorful. Your empty stomach isn’t as noticeable, and chewing is too much work for such little payoff.

Peter’s eyes soften slightly, like something’s clicked for him. His brows pull down and his lips pout.

Pity. He’s showing pity. You’ve hurt him, and he pities you.

You rise quickly, and Peter is quick to his feet to meet you there.

“I’m sorry,” you say, covering your mouth as you feel your breath quicken. You were going to break down again. “You should leave.”

You pushed past him, ignoring his calls after you. You beat him to your bedroom, where you shut and lock the door. Both hands cover your mouth as the tears begin falling and your chest starts heaving. It hurts; the muscles sore from how often this seems to happen.

You hear him jiggle the handle, calling your name through the door, begging you to open it. You sink down, your shirt bunching against the wood as you descend. But you wait. You can’t let it out now, not with him here. He shouldn’t have to see this. He shouldn’t have to put up with it.

Eventually, the knocking stops, and you hear him walk away. You wait longer still until you finally hear the front door open and close.

Then you scream.

It’s deep and guttural. A middle finger to the universe. It’s pure agony released from your throat. It’s all the words you can’t say fast enough. A battle cry from a broken soldier.

You continue to weep, crawling towards your bed, littered with clean clothes you haven’t folded, books you haven’t picked up, and various other trinkets you haven’t put away. But then the exhaustion comes back.

You curl in around yourself, crying out again in frustration.

You’re weak. You’re tired. You’re cruel. You’re pathetic. You’re fat. You’re too skinny. You’re disgusting. You’re heedless. You’re everything, but never enough.

Peter had never felt so defeated. He could see that you needed him, but you didn’t want him. That wasn’t a new feeling to Peter. He had long ago abandoned any hope that you would see him as more than a friend. Even if everyone you ever dated left much to be desired, you didn’t want him.

But this was different. This was something he hadn’t seen before.

He had gotten close. May had gotten pretty close herself. But it was never that. Whatever you were dealing with-- however you were dealing with it-- he didn’t know what to do with it.

You had never looked at him like that before, so full of hate. You had ripped him to shreds on your living room floor. Your words hurt, and it looked like you wanted them to. Like you enjoyed hurting him. It was scary. But then he saw it. That glint of fear in your eyes. The regret falling on your brows. And when you looked like you might cry, he knew.

That was something he did recognise, something he had seen in himself many years ago. The need to hurt. That primal urge to rip everything around you to ribbons. So it can look as ugly as you.

He followed you to your door, beginning to understand the hurt you were feeling. He didn’t want that for you. He wished he could remove it like a faulty wire, but you shut yourself off. He could hear your ragged breathing on the other side of the door, even through his pounding and shouting. But you wouldn’t open up, and he couldn’t do anything until you did.

He weighed his options and tried his best to leave. He wanted to trust that you would be okay, that you would someday unlock the door, but for now, he had to leave you be.

He picked up his stuff, made a mental note to come back and help you clean, and stepped outside. Before he released the handle, he heard you scream. A very real scream. He moved with urgency, panic rising in him. He fumbled with the key in his hands painted with red and blue nail polish. It was chipped from the many years of hanging on his keychain.

He called out to you but got no response. You continued to howl from the other room, and he rushed there. Trying the handle, he cursed, finding it still locked. He had never heard a noise like that before. Your guttural wailing filled his mind. He had one thought, banging and pulsing through his head: Save her. Save her. Save her. Save her.

He didn’t want to kick down the door and frighten you, so he spun hopelessly outside it, fingers tangled in his hair as he tried to make use of his big brain. There was pounding mixing in with your cries now, and Peter felt scared that you were reaching a peak he wouldn’t be able to get you down from.

He threw his backpack to the floor and began opening pockets. His eyes glanced over his wallet, and then he dove for it, pulling out the library card you made him get. You had drawn on it because he complained about how boring it looked. It was the spiderweb in the corner that caught his eye now. From it hung a little spider, but its abdomen was shaped like a heart. He had teased you relentlessly for it at the time, pointing out its anatomical incorrectness. You told him it was a reminder, but for what you never said.

He pushed the thought aside, sliding the card between the door jamb and the lock latch, wiggling it until he felt it release. Your cries could be heard from the other side, so he steeled himself. You needed him, and you needed him strong. He could do that for you. He could do anything for you.

He was taken aback, for a moment, by the display before him, his lips parting in a gasp. You thrashed about, showing rage in your despair. He felt a wave of disgust for himself. He supposed he had let this happen, let you stew too long.

All this time, he thought you were fine. In the same way he was always ‘fine’. But every time he wasn’t, you were there. You were by his side, ready to talk him down. But him? He just waited for you to do it on your own.

He would see the signs and put his head in the sand, remembering how embarrassing it is when someone notices and asks. Remembering the rage that would boil up in him, as if this person could even begin to understand where he was coming from. But he forgot how much he needed it too. How much that small kindness meant. He forgot the value of a shoulder to cry on and an ear to hear, even if they don’t understand.

But he couldn’t dwell on that now. He can’t focus on what he could have done, only what he can now. Because you’re here now, and he wants you around later.

He drops to his knees, his hands coming out to hold you before he stops himself. He calls out softly instead.

It’s apparent to him that you didn’t realise he was there, your wild eyes scanning over him, trying to decipher if he’s real. Your chest heaves as you lay on the ground, your face swollen and red. His heart breaks, for a moment, whispering an apology you don’t hear.

It hurts to have him look at you like that– to see you like this. But this is what you were afraid of, him seeing you and running. But so far, he hasn’t. And you’re selfish, bordering on desperate. It doesn’t matter why he’s here; it just matters that he is. And as much as you desperately want him to leave, to forget you and move on, you can’t help clinging to him.

The one ray of sunshine you have. The one who always gets it even if he doesn’t. The one that remembers to get things in your favourite colour and reminds you to change your water filter. Your rock. And you could use a rock right now, and you can't bring yourself to worry about it destroying him.

You begin heaving again, and Peter panics, still unsure how to help you. His eyes are too much, so you roll around onto your belly, your legs curled up underneath, your forehead against the carpet. Your hands are wrapped around your gut as everything in you comes out. All the rage, and despair, and confusion leaking through your broken cries.

Peter only intervenes when your fists start slamming down against your stomach. You can feel his hand trembling as it grabs yours, and you scream again. His hand retracts, uncertain how to move forward.

Snot is running down your face, and you can feel some dribble on your chin. You feel like a child. You feel like a disgusting mess. He shouldn’t have to see you like this.

It hurts, god, it hurts so much!

His name leaves your lips, broken and frayed around the consonants, and he scoots closer.

“What?” He asks, sounding nearly as broken as you. “What can I do?”.

“Peter- Peter, please fix it!”

You’re not sure why you asked. You weren’t sure what he could do. But you knew he would do it. That’s what he does, fix things. He fixed your laptop, and May’s stove, and your bad study habits, and your sour mood. He always did and asked for nothing in return.

But maybe this was too big of an ask. How could he fix this- A chemical imbalance that you’ve been fighting your entire life? How could he fix what doctors hadn’t? What if you couldn’t be fixed?

You slammed your fist back into you, each hit punctuated with an insult.

Disgusting Pathetic Selfish Broken Useless Dumb Weak

But then, you felt gentle, shaking hands once again. His touch was warm but different from the fire you felt inside. It didn’t burn, but sooth. He had come up behind you and guided your arms tighter around yourself, using his to keep them there, coaxing you into sitting up and resting against him.

He was all around you now; his heart beat steadily against your back, even as yours pounded fiercely. You screamed again, but this time Peter didn’t let go. He held you tighter, hoping desperately that if he held on harder, he could keep you from slipping away. That you would feel his love on your skin. That he could shove the broken pieces back together enough to help you set them right.

Your head hurts; pressure building behind your eyes. But you felt safe, even in this pain. Because Peter was here, holding you tightly. He was here, even if he shouldn’t be. He was here. And you found yourself relaxing into his hold, melting against him.

Your sobbing fell into a quiet whimpering, letting him soothe you with gentle shushes and his forehead resting on the side of yours. He readjusted his hold on you, rubbing up and down on your arm with one hand and pulling you closer with the other. You hung loosely like you had lost the strength to hold yourself up. Peter swore you wouldn’t have to.

“I got you,” he whispered, placing a kiss where his head once was.

Soon, your cries became sniffles, and you turned around to face Peter. His face seemed sad, maybe even tired, but he smiled at you nonetheless. It wasn’t out of sympathy, but true and genuine. That was still too much, feeling embarrassed by your current state, so you hid.

Peter let you wrap your arms and legs around him, trying not to shiver as your nose rubbed against his neck. He pulled you into his lap, relishing in your tight hold. You were coming back to him.

He rubbed soothing patterns on your back, resting his head against yours while whispering encouragements.

“Good job, sweetie, you’re breathing so well for me. That’s right, big breaths, you got it.”

The world slowly stopped spinning, and your body stopped spazzing. You got the feeling back in your fingertips, running them in circles across Peter’s back, trying to recalibrate. He breathed with you, praising for each one you took.

Then, you were still, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Peter could feel your eyelashes slowly brush against his neck as you blinked.

“Hey,” he called softly. You hummed, and he was grateful. “I know you're tired, but you should take a bath first.”

You shook your head no, curling into him deeper. His heart panged, wanting desperately to hold onto you longer, but not like this.

He scooped you up, and you whined, wrapping your legs around him tighter as his arm came around to hold your hips. You knew he wouldn’t drop you, but you weren’t used to being toted around.

He let you cling to him as he began filling the bath, making sure the water was warm but wouldn’t hurt. He then travelled to the laundry room to grab some fresh towels and threw in some bubble bath he had found under the sink.

“Come on, baby,” he tried, “In the bath, you go.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the nickname and tried not to think about how much you didn’t want Peter to let go.

It’s not him, You told yourself, he’s just here.

But it didn’t sound very convincing, not even to you. But regardless of your wishes, you knew he wouldn't always be, and what would you do when he left? You’d probably end up on the floor again, or worse.

“I’ll still be here when you’re done,” He said, as if he could read your thoughts, “I promise a bath will make you feel better.”

You took a deep breath, raising your head to look into his eyes. Galaxies lived there, swirling and teeming with life. Every emotion, every thought, bubbling in his irises. And one came through over all of them, ringing through the silence.

Love.

You saw it there as he looked at you. How could this be?

Love.

Had he not seen how monstrous you could be, how depraved and insane you truly were? How could he possibly find it in him to still love you? And how could you let something like that go? He had a love for you that you didn’t have for yourself, but you needed it.

You nodded your head, pushing the thought aside, as you rose on shaking legs. Peter smiled, then left, grinning at you through the crack in the door.

“Thank you,” he said before closing it behind him.

You peeled off your sweat-soaked clothes, feeling embarrassed once again when you realised you were only in a t-shirt and a pair of underwear this entire time. Peter was a very good friend, and you couldn’t imagine why he was thanking you for anything.

You got into the water, your muscles relaxing as soon as they broke the barrier. You stretched, letting yourself sink deeper into the water. You lay there for a moment, relishing in the peace, in the momentary break in misery.

You dunk your head under the water, holding your breath and counting. You come up gasping, feeling the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You feel alive again.

You do that a few more times before actually washing your body. You try not to wince as you scrub the film from your body and hair. You took the time to pamper yourself, letting the lavender scent surround you. You even shaved so you could curl up in your fuzzy blanket later and just feel the softness. Peter was right- a bath made you feel a lot better.

You wrapped yourself up in your towel, feeling fresh and a lot less heavy, and opened the door. Peter was there sitting on your floor, thumbing through your record collection. You gasped at the vision around you, and Peter jumped up, a smile on his face.

“Hey, you’re back!” He saw your surprise and hastily apologized, “I hope you don’t mind. Just thought I’d put on some music.”

You shook your head at the man, ignoring his apology completely. You didn't care about the music. Your eyes wandered around the made bed, with fresh sheets, and the clothes that once occupied them neatly folded. The dirty clothes on your floor were gone, the hamper was empty, and when you listened carefully, you could hear the washing machine running in the other room.

“You didn’t have to clean up,” you said, embarrassment rising to your cheeks.

“It’s all good,” he brushed off, like it was nothing. “I pulled these out for you to change into, but you can- you can wear whatever, of course. And...I don't have to tell you that.”

The way he fumbled over his words was adorable, but you remembered then that you were only in a towel, standing in front of your best friend. You clutched it tighter, and he seemed to notice then too. Redness grew from his neck to his cheeks, and he quickly turned around.

“Sorry!” He shouted. Then calmly, “Sorry, I’ll uh- I’ll let you change.”

You reached for the pyjamas he set out and slipped them on. It felt nice. I mean, the pj’s weren’t new, but wearing something Peter picked out for you, with you in mind, felt…sweet. And they were extremely comfortable. You smiled softly as you smoothed out the fabric, then opened the door.

Peter was standing just on the other side with his back turned to it, but upon hearing the handle, he turned. His eyes quickly skated over your form before he beamed at you. You invited him into your room and turned down the record he had put on so it was softly playing in the background.

He stood awkwardly in your room, hands in his pockets, like he didn't know what to do next. You felt a similar way, sitting back on your bed. The silence was loud; both of you stuck between wanting to ask a million questions and not sure how to make the words right.

You figured he had done enough of the work today; you could try for him.

“I’m sorry,” you began.

He turned to you, worry written across his brows and a retort on his lips, but you cut him off.

“I- I was cruel to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

His face falls as he sighs, then trudges over to sit at your side with heavy feet.

“It’s okay-” he begins.

“Don’t say that,” You spit, some of that anger you tried to bury coming back. Peter stilled, and you felt bad, but he had to hear you. It was important. “Don’t say that how I treated you was acceptable because it wasn’t. You don’t deserve that from anyone. If I had seen someone speak to you that way– or ignore you the way I did –I would have killed them. I don’t get to lash out at you like that, okay?”

Peter’s eyes were twinkling again, and you couldn’t understand it.

“You- you shouldn’t have to put with it,” you continue shakily, “and I don’t think you should stick around.”

Peter rolled his eyes, chuckling.

“Tough luck.”

You look at him baffled, but he remains unfazed.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy,” he explains, “I spend most of my days chasing people who actually want me dead. You having a little outburst because you’re hurting and you don’t know how to say it? I can handle that.”

He grabs your hand, and you try to stop the butterflies taking flight within you.

“You disappearing for a few days? That’s nothing. Me leaving?” He laughs full-on now; it rolls through him, blooming from his chest, “That’s never gonna happen.”

“Peter-” you try, but it’s he who cuts you off now.

“No, I’m not hearing any of it. I’m not going anywhere,” he insists. “I’m not leaving you again. I will be right here, for as long as you need me, and even when you don’t.”

His hold on your hand is tighter now, as if he’s trying to press the promise into you. Placing it in your hand and hoping you never let it go. Or maybe it was more than the promise. You look into his eyes, and you see it again– love. You can’t make sense of it. Over and over again, that look. One you’ve seen so many times. Why?

“Because you shouldn’t have to do it alone.” He answers your silent question, “Because I don’t want you to do it alone, not when I’m right here.”

He lifts your hand and puts it over his heart. You can feel how fast it’s beating. Yours flutters in a similar way. It’s terrifying and thrilling, this promise he makes. You want Peter there, always. That’s why he has a key, free to pop into your life whenever he finds the time. Because you always want him there. It’s why he’s your emergency contact and the only person you trust (other than May, but you would never ask it of her) to water your plants when you’re away.

But if he stays, you’ll grow attached. More attached, at least. He’s seen one of many battles in a war you’ve been losing for as long as you can remember. He’s crazy enough to think he can handle more when you barely can yourself. But maybe that’s what you need, someone to fight with you. Someone to fight for.

You bring your arm around his neck, pulling him into a jarring hug. He accepts it, pulling you closer. You’re trembling ever so slightly, but you’re not fighting him anymore. He knows what this means. You’re letting him stay, and he’s so grateful.

You allow yourself to just breathe with him- to let him be here, and hold you. You never got that before, and accepting it now is hard, but you can do it.

“Do you wanna stay the night and watch some b-horror films?” you asked.

Peter smiled against you, and your heart leapt at the action.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You feel a bit selfish as he steps into the bathroom to change into comfier clothes, as he crawls into bed and lets you curl into him, as he drapes his arm around you and holds you close. You can’t give him what he wants right now, what he deserves, but you want to. It’s hard, it’s terrifying, but you know that you can. You can do it for him. You're strong enough.

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