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justafriend-ql · 1 year

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"i can't breathe" - the privilege paradox (never let me go, ep. 4)

nuengdiao has "everything," except for what he really wants. the paradox is that although he occupies a position of privilege, that very privilege is what most prevents him from achieving happiness. his privilege comes with expectations that constrict around him and limitations on his ability to form meaningful relationships with other people. nueng is incredibly skilled at maintaining a confident, unbothered mask. but as the pressure on him mounts and his feelings for palm grow increasingly uncontrollable, the mask fractures - and as he shouts at palm at the party, it shatters.

the first 15 minutes of the series set the tone. nuengdiao's parents prioritize work over him. his dad pressures him to take over the family hotel business (despite his lack of interest in it) by saying he's "the only one" who can be trusted to do it. his dad is murdered in front of his eyes, launching him into the limelight as the company's heir apparent. he must face a crowd of hungry reporters fishing for dirt on his family and the greedy parents of his peers with a steel gaze, betraying no weakness.

the color palette is all midnight blue and velvet red - decadent, heavy, and suffocating. you subconsciously feel nueng's unwanted future closing in around him, so much so that you don't realize you're holding your breath until it cuts to palm on his fishing boat. there, it's all bright sky and open air, complemented by relaxed, breezy music. of course, this too, is a prison (palm himself says he has "no future here"), but in contrast to the darkness and formality of nueng's world, it feels like freedom.

nueng takes it pretty well, all things considered. he swallows his desires and tells his parents he'll do his best to take over the family business. when an english-speaking reporter asks him about concerns that the company's profits will decline in his father's absence, nueng masks his uncertainty about the future with a confident tone and elegant accent, telling the report everything will be "absolutely fine."

nuengdiao wears the same mask at school, proclaiming he doesn't need friends and refusing to give his bullies the satisfaction of seeing him upset. instead, he leaves the room calmly, only folding in on himself when in the safety and privacy of his beloved music room.

because everybody approaches him for personal gain, he can't allow himself to trust anyone. perhaps the most powerful example of nueng's masking ability is when he acts friendly with phum in the pool, all while suspecting him of being his bully and simultaneously executing a plan to catch him in the act. even when he does, nueng exercises self-restraint, attempting to first negotiate with phum to get his necklace back rather than rely on violence.

palm is the only one with whom nueng's mask falters, perhaps because he is the only person nueng has any real power over (or, perhaps, because he actively wants palm to see and love his true self). again and again, we see nueng show extreme vulnerability to palm in a way he doesn't let anyone else (even his own mother) see. he shares his grief and bitterness at the condo rooftop in episode one ("my father died on my birthday"/"we are our father's puppets"), invites palm to touch his neck in episodes two and three ("pengyou"/"can you put it on me?"), and shares his anxieties about his mother's response to his sexuality in episode 4 ("i'm afraid i won't fulfill her expectations").

nueng's inability to be with palm (as a friend and a romantic partner) is yet another instance of nueng's privileged position getting in the way of what he wants. each time they take a step closer to becoming something more than boss and subordinate, an external factor comes and reminds them that doing so is not allowed. this is clearest in episode 2: they agreed to be friends, but aunt nid asks palm to bring palm breakfast like a servant; nueng invites palm to eat with him, but chanon scolds palm for doing so; palm must take the bus to school, while nueng rides in the van; the teachers exempt nueng from doing push-ups when he's late, while palm must do double; and so on...

because being with palm seems impossible, nueng accepts ben's advances, mostly because he is willing and able to shower him with the love and affection he so desperately craves (side note: at least for the time being - i haven't forgotten chopper's warning). when ben confesses his feelings for him, nueng admits that "no one has said those words" to him before. as he tells palm later, it feels good to be "wanted."

but nueng cannot mask or repress his feelings for palm for long. two scenes are critical to nueng making the decision to continue to pursue palm and slow things down with ben. the first is when palm says he doesn't like maggie during their conversation by the pond. nueng looks confused and asks if it's possible that he'll like her in the future (perhaps an attempt at figuring out palm's sexuality?), to which palm gives an ambivalent response. previously, nueng had assumed palm liked maggie, and that assumption drove his jealousy. now though, there's a possibility that all of those lingering looks and soft touches and caring words he's exchanged with palm meant something to palm too.

the second critical scene is when nueng is in the bath, thinking about his kiss with ben. he touches his lips contemplatively, remembering the sensation, but the memory of ben is quickly replaced by one of palm wrapping his arms around him at the shooting range. just like in episode 3, when nueng danced with ben but wanted to dance with palm, nueng kissed ben but would rather kiss palm. he sits up and leans forward abruptly, as if coming to a decision. he's not giving up on palm. he looks slightly resigned, acknowledging how difficult it will be for them to be together.

nueng's conversation with ben at the dance hall, in which he suggests they not rush to date and take time to get to know each other first, illustrates his decision to pump the brakes with ben in hopes of being with palm instead. throughout their whole conversation, he wears a happy, flirtatious, confident mask. but as soon as ben leaves, the mask drops, replaced by a forlorn, jealous expression as he heads to the bar to drink while stewing over maggie and palm from afar.

more than anything else, i think nueng is jealous of how easy it is for maggie and palm to be with each other. when he storms over to them, demanding to know why palm can dance with maggie but not him, he is acutely aware of why. he spells out all the reasons as he derogates palm, calling him his servant, his running dog, his lackey. he doesn't really see palm this way, but everyone else does. and when has what nueng thought mattered? when have his feelings made a difference?

despite his privileged position in society, nueng is powerless in his own life. at the dance, he takes out this helpless anger on palm, the one person he can exert power over. (it reminds me a little of vegaspete's dynamic on a smaller scale, with one taking out their frustration about the impossible expectations they've inherited from their fathers on the one person they can control.) it's almost like nueng is grappling with the impossibility of being with palm aloud, angry that their status difference will always keep them apart. maybe he's angry with himself, for thinking things could be different.

while the moment is certainly devastatingly painful for palm, i want to suggest that it is also painful for nueng. when palm is knocked to the ground, gasping for breath, nueng falls to the floor too. despite the harsh words nueng just said, they reach for each other in mutual anguish. nueng cries palm's name, begging for help as he repeatedly says, "i can't breathe."

it's a confession. i can't breathe. maybe he stopped breathing when his father died, bleeding out in a back alley and releasing one last breath into the night air. ever since, he's been suffocating in slow motion, denied oxygen at every turn. palm is the only one who gives him air, the only one he can let the mask slip for. but now, the mask is altogether shattered, and nueng is as vulnerable as he's ever been. he's reaching a shaky hand out toward palm, telling him, i can't breathe without you.

and sometime soon, palm will take him to the ocean, where we first saw palm against a background of bright sky. where it felt like freedom. and they'll be able to breathe once more. together.

#trying to get inside nueng's head with this one #and surprise! it's sad in there #never let me go #never let me go the series #palmnueng #nuengpalm #pond naravit #nlmg #phuwin tangsakyuen #pondphuwin #never let me go meta #thai bl #bl series #bl drama #thai drama #asianlgbtqdramas

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bonbonthedragon · 2 years

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How am I to Recover When I am to Blame?

Fem!reader x Bakugou

Note: hiiiii I got bored and inspired

Warnings: slight nfsw, angst, fluff, mostly angst

Part 2 is here 👉 💔

She gasped when the cold of the marble counter hit her waist, his hand resting onto her hip, the other grazing her cheek until it stayed there, and he held her. Bakugou leaned down just enough for his lips to graze her jaw, giving enough force to have her head tilted and left easy access to the underlining of her neck. (Y/n) couldn’t help the sound that escaped her, a gentle sigh to the feeling. He hummed.

“Katsuki- ah” he just kept going, her hands gripping tight to the edge, that bouncing pleasure hitting every bone throughout her body. “We can’t- can’t keep doing this-“

He knew

“We’re not together.”

No, not anymore.

“You divorced me.”

Fuck

“You left me- ah!”

“I know” and he pressed his lips to hers, silencing the soft whimpers to wet skilled nothingness.

Bakugou pressed his tongue heavy to hers, greedy for access. It didn’t take much convincing, her hands stretching up to his back just to ball the shirt in knots. He pressed further, so rough compared to anyone else yet he cradled her head with such tenderness. Pure pleasure trickled and thudded against her abdomen, sparking into a red hot fire that she missed all too much, that she had known all too well at a time. She had to stop this, but no wasn’t coming out, no, instead she felt her hips twitch, just grazing his front. He huffed a heavy sigh before moving his arms around her to pick her up and set her gently onto the counter.

He had built this counter, when they moved in. He had actually almost stapled his hand to the damn wood that held it, he had the scar, that scar trailing up with his hands as they followed up her back. She shivered when the snap of her bra came undone. Bakugou fingered the hem of her shirt, pulling up.

“Mama!”

(Y/n) gasped and Bakugou froze, he let go of the shirt. Little Mitsuma came waddling in, so small and swaddled in his blanket.

“Mitsu!” His mother squeaked, shoving the boys father away. He was supposed to be getting dressed.

“Look I got in my jammies all by myself!” The child squeaked

Both the adults paused, admiring the young one, such a perfect blend of both. His hair curled a ash-blond, eyes a (y/e/c) hue and skin so smooth. They melted. She could feel her knees weaken.

“Oh baby-“ (y/n) cooed, scooping him up.

“Daddy’s still here” he noted, smiling and looking at his mother.

“Yes- he was just leaving-thank you for dropping him off”

“(Y/n)…” Katsuki tried, until his eyes set on the small gem stone on her finger, that crystal orb sparkling. So unfamiliar, not at all like the ring he had gifted her when he proposed. Actually, the one he had made was a obsidian band, no gem, no diamond of any kind. Yet, an inscription; This is Us.

He could almost laugh about it, mind directly going to when she had pulled her own ring out when he went down on one knee. The idea seemed to be shared, and while he took forever to find the right thing to engrave onto the ring for her, the one she had slid on his finger just had a small star on the inside. The same stars she always drew on him back in school.

“I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

His head snapped back up, trying hard not to be frowning so much. The man shoved his hands in his pockets, letting his gaze wonder around and set one the family photos. All hung with a smiling family, his son, his ex-wife, and her husband. A few consisted of him, only ones with little Mitsuma and him in it, but that was it.

“This has to be the last time.”

Again his attention came clear. (Y/n) had now let down the boy, reaching for a bottle of wine and a thin tall glass. She poured it nearly to the top.

She shook her head. “I’m…Katsuki, I’m married. I love Kaito, and he loves me. This isn’t right, you know it.” The wine swirled in the cup, tipping to fall into her awaiting mouth.

“I love you” he mumbled.

That had her freezing, taking the drink away. Something of grief casted a haunting shadow over her, clearly trying so hard not to cry, not to let her son see her like this. She looked away.

“You should head home now, it’s getting late.” (Y/n) watched as Mitsuma left the room and into the bathroom. “You being here will only confuse him.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. Bakugou sighed. “Oi! Squirt! Don’t make me leave without telling me bye, damn it!”

The little one came running into the living room, jumping into his dads arms with a big hug and kiss on his stubbly cheek. Bakugou huffed, setting him down and ruffling his hair before going out the door.

“See ya next week, kid.”

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #fanfic #boku no hero academia hawks #hawks x reader #my hero academia hawks #dad!bakugou

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creaturebehavior · 1 year

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i’m so in love with him and i can’t imagine ever not loving him

i can’t imagine ever not missing him

crying feels too painful. i panicked and cried for days and it just hurt

i don’t want to listen to music because everything makes me feel insane

at the same time i blew out my ears for a couple days cuz i was listening to a song i don’t even remember which one but i turned it up all the way in my car while i was driving to walmart because i was feeling so fucked up in the head honestly i didn’t know what to do. i needed the vibration to shake the grief from me and i was screaming but like sooo over it. like i couldn’t even feel it like i didn’t want to be feeling it or doing anything or being melodramatic. it feels like everything is a mockery of our situation and i don’t actually want to engage with any of it.

i dreamt about a different ex last night which was very telling about my mental state. My mind is used to dreaming of Leo every night, but can’t stand to dream of him so I dreamt of a different ex… Also it’s probably somehow relevant that the dream was kind of about that night I cheated on Adam with Rose. There was a lot i was feeling and thinking at that time about the kind of relationship i want to be in….

ugh this all feels so awful. all i can really do is sleep. at least today i kind of have my appetite back today. before, eating just made me feel sick. and i’ve been able to sit upright and think about stuff other than him a little bit at times. but i just feel so like empty.

this feels so like…. real and surreal at the same time and very bad.

i’m not taking this lightly at all. my old breakup coping mechanisms all sound ridiculous to me. i don’t want to watch sex and the city or listen to breakup songs or read poetry or anything like that. even making art sounds kind of horrible.

i didn’t even realize how close we were to the breaking point. and i didn’t even realize things could feel this… unsalvageable.

if he changed his mind, i would go back to him in an instant. but i can’t imagine him ever changing his mind…. There’s no way this last time wasn’t my last chance. He probably feels like things will never change. and maybe they never will. i don’t know. And it’s not worth it enough for him to keep me when it’s this dysfunctional.

i know it’s not realistic to wish we could stay together despite our dysfunction. i wish real life could be more like fantasy.

He is such a special person. I admire him so much. And he accepted me and loved me at my lowest. He understood parts of me I’ll never share with anyone else. I got so greedy wanting to pull him closer. Then i just pushed him away. I tried to be okay with constantly yearning to know more about him and his world. Why couldn’t I just relax? He would tell me sometimes that i felt like home. I can’t believe I went and ruined that. He’s my favorite person i’ve ever met. Every thought of his was important to me. everything about him was interesting to me and attractive to me. He understands why certain things are cool or funny or interesting or stupid. I’ve never had that with anyone else. Spending time with him felt effortless. And restorative. And imperative.

If he ever changes his mind, I will be available. If he ever misses me so much he wants me back, I will always go back to him. i don’t know how delusional it is to hold out anymore hope. but i will always be here, if he ever wants me again.

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bluecookies02 · 3 years

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Dabi x Reader- I Run To You /nsfw/

warnings: praise/degradation, sex oriented quirk?(meaning succubus-ish!Reader), choking, overstimulation, squirting, pinning/slightly obsessed reader.

The reader becomes a villain-->brief mentions of blood, mentions of Touya's "death".

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Maybe you're supposed to feel some sort of remorse when you see your childhood friend on the screen, blue flames hugging every corner of the building he's in, the poor glass shattering and melting as the reporters hurriedly fly around to catch every evidence and information they can.

You couldn't see much of his face, but the way he carried himself and the exact patterns of his scarred arm were enough for her. You only needed one glance.

It took a few months for you to wrap your head around it. Trying to push down the anger and grief by finding excuses for whatever he's doing. You became obsessed though, super fixated on every last trail of him you can find.

Years went by fast. Gaining the trust of other villains was fairly easy when you share the same hatred for the heroes. It brings you a sense of belonging and they listen. They listen and feel your anger, understand loss better than anyone else you tried to talk to before. You don't receive stupid condolences and bullshit like "it gets better" or "that's what faith had in store for you". You get raw emotion, telling you exactly what you yearned to hear, finally knowing that you're not crazy and that there are people who have enough braincells to see through the terrible facades the society has been smearing over everybody's eyes.

It's hard at first, watching blood and flesh rip through the air you breathe as your shoes leave red trails that follow your step...until they don't...they get mixed and lost and the footprints you once knew were yours look foreign, you don't know where you came from, you just know where you're headed.

You come back to your small apartment almost every night, writing down and scribbling each piece of information before it has the chance to be forgotten, intent on not letting a single detail slip.

You find it bizarre. You wanted to be a hero. For as long as your memory goes, you admired and glorified the kind and selfless faces you saw on TV, and in your own house.

He wanted to be a hero too? Even more than you. You're close, just a handful of months and you'd earn yourself a place. You know it.

Would he remember you?

Your pen breaks under the pressure of your palm, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You stack the notebooks neatly, locking your door before plopping on your pillow.

All of this for a boy...how silly of you...Would he be happy to have someone familiar next to him?

You feel lonely...You miss the comfort of the past and you wonder if he does too. Did he even like you back then? You dig for every memory of him smiling at you, gracing your hand while the two of you played the games on his computer.

Then your eyes wander to the pictures on your wall, collages of newspapers with his face on it. He aged like fine wine. Strong and handsome. His hands are something you can't look away from, his long fingers keeping you in a trance while you snuggle under your blanket, slipping your hand in your shorts. Just this time.

You bend your legs at your knees, head craned to look at the pictures on your walls, mouth loosely open. You take your time working your clit, imagining how he would do it. How he would take his time exploring you after not seeing you for so long.

Your ass bucks off the bed a little, humping against your fingers, almost dipping into your greedy pussy, ghosting over the slicked up hole and spreading the nice coat of the slimy wetness across your folds.

Would he be good at eating you out? Stretching his scarred jaw to fit his mouth over your cunt and lap at it, sticking his tongue out as far as it can go.

You stretch your shorts to fit your hand in, pressing two fingers on each side of the sensitive nub, using your other hand to flick at the exposed pearl. It almost burns from the pressure, too sensitive when it's not hidden under the thin layer.

What if he had his tongue pierced? Imagining the metal on you, swirling over every inch, digging into you as it bumps your clit. You can't make yourself wait anymore, pulling your shorts down and pressing your knees to your tummy. Like he's there in the room, giving him a perfect view of your dripping hole, untouched and clenching around nothing as you trail your finger across it.

You slip two of them in, too horny to drag it out anymore, you start pumping them in and out of your pussy, convulsing and shivering each time you hit that spot while you arch off the bed. Your other hand works your clit, chasing the trashing of your hips while your drenched cunt pools around your fingers, the sound making you high. It's wet and erotic, your palm slamming against your other hand, the rhythm on your clit rushed and messy, interrupting the pace you need.

You imagine his skilled fingers on you again, precisely circling your swollen nub as he stuffs you with his cock, his hot breath on your neck while his dyed hair tickles your face, wet kisses adoring your skin as he's about to stuff you full of his cum, press your legs to your stomach until they feel like they're gonna break. He'd try to go deeper than possible, holding your neck so that he can kiss you properly as your bodies rock the bed.

He'd cum first, seconds before you just to make sure that you milk every last drop as you cum and pulse around his shaft, your pussy gripping and sucking him in while he still balls deep inside you, groaning into your mouth.

The sensation of him shaking against you sends you over the edge, your breath being knocked out of you as your thighs flex and clench together, squeezing your hands and trapping them in place.

You're gasping for breath, eyes closing and ears buzzing from your high, light thrust against your clit coming to a stop as you slowly calm down.

Bliss washes over you as you lay there for a bit, chest rising and falling, your body completely relaxed.

You hope it'll all turn out to be worth it and joining the League would just be another step from many to go. Yet you still hope that your feelings were mutual back then. You experience loss too early in your teen years and a lot has changed since. But one thing was constant, you never stop loving someone even after they're gone, and Touya is the biggest proof of that.

You still had his books, pens, shirts and all of the notes the two of you passed around during dinners or classes...and you held onto them long before you found out he was still somewhere out there.

He was stoic and cold most of the time, his affections looked calculated, keeping you on the line throughout the whole friendship, not letting the two of you slip into a relationship. Pausing his flirting as soon as you seemed to get your hopes up.

If not a relationship, you want closure, and you want him, in any form you can have him.

_______________

Slowly you wake up to a pattern of knocks on your bedside table, not having the time to panic or get scared as you're slipping away from your dreams.

When you finally do see a tall white-haired man next to your bed, you raise your hands up in defense, heart skipping beats and toes curling as you back away to the headboard.

"Quiet a stalker aren't you?" Red eyes pierce through you, your quirk activating for a split second until he grabs a hold of your ankle with four fingers.

"You know what the fifth one does...so behave nicely, I'm not here to kill you" You look around the room, avoiding the uncomfortable gaze of the leader.

The shame of your interior upsetting you more than the initial fear of getting murdered.

"How did you get in?" Your locks are too good to be broken down, your alarm system expensive(but stolen) and working perfectly.

A purple portal flashes in the middle of the room. Well not so perfectly, you figure.

"I won't snitch on your obsession cause I couldn't care less, I want you in the League. Pack your shit or run." Your eyes are wide open, watching as the man slips into a portal and disappears, the purple mist still glowing in front of you.

You hurriedly grab a small suitcase, stuffing everything you know is important, already having some luggage packed in case you had to move fast for whatever reason. It comes in handy being organized.

You hide the newspapers you took off your walls, slipping them between your clothes and zipping the suitcase. First impression matters, so you risk wasting a bit of time to pick out an outfit, making yourself look presentable before you slip into a mellow cloud, dragging your stuff with you.

Your heart is pounding, blood rushing to the tips of your ears and the pads of your fingers, pulsing and warming you up.

The leader greets you again, grinning as he leads you to a room, telling you to make yourself at home.

"I wanted to give you a roommate, but that would be distracting" he teases, his teeth still showing as he closes the door behind you. The room is warm and surprisingly not messy at all. Yes, some things are carelessly tossed on the bed or draped over the chair but everything else is neat. You figure out fairly quickly that it was probably occasionally used.

You take your time to explore the room, piling up the stuff that wasn't yours in one corner of it. You unpack one of your suitcases and half of the other, cursing yourself for bringing the evidence of your little plan.

You don't know why you brought it, it seemed useless after you found out where you're going, but you guess it's for sentimental reasons. You didn't plan for it to happen so fast. But they were indeed a bit low on numbers after recent attacks so they must've gotten impatient and started seeking out more people.

You did do everything in your power to get noticed so you do want to take some credit. You smoothen out the sheets before you sit on the bed, thighs rubbing together from nervousness.

Is he on a mission?

How can you play it cool?

What's his favorite food now?

What are his interests?

Does anything make him particularly happy...maybe a hobby?

Should you try using your quirk to lure him in?

Does he know you exist?

Will he recognize you?

Would he remember you even after you tell him?

Maybe you shouldn't tell him.

You stop before you get too deep in your thoughts, deciding that you should make yourself comfortable. It's very likely that he's not there anyways, and he might not even show up soon, sitting there all alone is just making you more anxious.

You decide to leave the room, curious to meet other members that you heard in the hallways a few minutes ago. They were all headed to the same place, so you decided to go to what you figured was the living room.

The smell of alcohol got stronger, and the small giggles and banter got louder. You fixed your clothes one last time before opening the door, seeing the all too familiar faces in the room.

A blonde-haired girl ran to you, almost tumbling them both to the floor as she giggled excitedly.

"I was dying for more girls in this dump, they all stink" she whined, sniffing your shirt. She was grabbed by the collar by the boss, his pinkie up as the girl huffed.

_________________

So that's exactly how you met everyone, sitting on the bar as you silently wished the last member showed any desire in greeting you. He was sprawled out on the sofa in the far end of the room, a beer in hand and a cigarette in his mouth. You've never seen someone so unapproachable before, and it had to be him of all people.

Yet you didn't take it to heart. He was always like this...well minus the alcohol. New people didn't phase him, even more, he hated new. You're not worthy of his time until he deems you as so and you figure he never met "you" before.

But you do glance at him. The whole fucking night, chatting with others but always slipping and almost getting caught. They pointed it out but you just brushed it off as being curious to why he doesn't look like he's enjoying himself.

Even tho, you can practically feel his gaze on your back each time you turn away, feeling flustered you sip on your drink through the night, blushing when you catch him averting his gaze.

He is intrigued, to say the least. The way you move and talk is intoxicating, your voice feeling like something he had forgotten a long time ago. It reminds him of his past and it makes him fairly angry...but it brings some form of comfort he didn't feel in a while. He'll be selfish enough to indulge himself.

And he does. Months. Seeping into years.

________________

Missions are exhausting, so far you've been on more than you could bring yourself to count. On the run for weeks with little to no rest wasn't the luxurious lifestyle younger you dreamed about.

The comfort of the not so soft bed never felt more heavenly than now. A cheap motel wasn't your form of rest either, but you had to deal, hopping in for a not so relaxing shower with water that jumped from freezing to burning hot every second, tho it did an amazing job on easing the coil in your stomach.

Your quirk is taking a toll on you, control over it fading away as soon as you are laying clean and fresh on the bed. Too much...You were working too much and just teasing the victims never seemed to satiate your quirks' hunger. You second guess your path a lot, especially when you end up alone and exhausted, but you never think about quitting...as weird as that feels. It has its perks you guess...

Him being your partner wasn't one of them. He's practically eating you up, showing off in front of you but ignoring you all the same. You feel like crying from frustration, huffing to yourself before digging into your backpack and grabbing your small toy. It's been a few weeks since you could indulge yourself, the tension of your muscles painful.

Tears are almost freely rolling down your cheeks, your quirk making you feel dizzy as you slip the toy against your clit.

His voice is rough and quiet in your head, the conversations you had playing on repeat, searching for anything that you might've missed.

Every time you thought of one, it was followed by a memory of him pushing you away, smirking before going to do his own thing. He always had a smart mouth, flirting with you but making sure to step right off when he feels like he's dancing on that line.

You bit back equally though, returning the snarky comments and putting up a tough facade all while you tried to cling onto every thread of hope he threw your way.

He was almost sure he heard you though, his real name followed by a muffled cough as you tried your hardest to drown it with small talk. A moment of pure joy after you both made it out alive and safe made you let your guard down.

And when he called off the rest of the mission for the day out of nowhere, you were almost sure too.

But he isn't here now. He didn't follow you, and you're certainly all alone in this empty room. He'll come around...or he'll leave in the middle of the night. You wouldn't be able to blame him for either.

He's in the room right next to you, his fist wrapped tightly around his cock and his eyes squinted shut. He knows exactly who you remind him of, knows exactly what he felt as soon as you joined. You were always similar to her.

Awfully similar.

He knows.

It doesn't feel fair. Not to you or him. But he can't think. He can't focus and he can't stop himself from moaning out your name as his cock slicks up with pre-cum, his other going to his balls and squeezing them lightly.

He feels drunk, even though he didn't drink...well more than the usual amount... his body is burning like it's on fire...which isn't a foreign feeling to him. But it's different, the blood in his veins is warm, surging to the tips of his hands and toes as he fucks into his own fist. He's almost in a haze, fighting the urge to get up and slam your door open. If he runs away now, you'll be safer, maybe quit the League if he's lucky.

But he can't win, messily pulling his pants up and slipping on his shoes, grabbing your door handle in less than a blink as he tries to go back one last time. He has a primal need that pulls him towards you, even when he's not in the same room, it urges him to reach out and chase you, grip on the last straw of sanity and happiness that happens to be you.

Your toy buzzes faintly, sweat gracing your body while you so desperately try to cum. You're too sad and it doesn't help in reaching your high at all, but if you don't do it you feel like you might explode. He knows and he doesn't want you. You wasted your life away. You deserve it for being a creep.

He opens the door cautiously, feeling his cock pulse against the loose buckle. The lamp highlights your tear-stained cheeks and it's criminally hot, illegal even, making his toes curl.

You notice him immediately, dropping the toy on the mattress and using the sheet to cover as best as you can.

"I can't believe you" he whispers.

"Please..." you whine, drinking in the sight of him, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. To leave or to stay...any of the two.You know desire when you see it, praying that he came to quench it.

You're so desperate, craving him, letting go of your quirk and sending hormones to clash and bite against his skin.

You'll lie if you have to, say how you couldn't control it for a second more.

Nothing matters now when he's crawling up your naked body like a starved man, ripping the sheets away, digging his nails into your sides as he ravages your skin like it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

And it probably is, the soft nibbles turning rough and hungry as you struggle to hold one, tangling your hands in his hair. You try to pull on it, yearning to kiss him and pour everything you feel against his lips, even if you're just a fuck, you need him to know that you never forgot him.

He doesn't budge, instead, he makes quick work of his pants, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

The room is too warm for you, the air too thick to breathe. You don't know if you want to stop and talk first....maybe you'll have the chance later?

"This is your fault" he huffs, slipping one hand to his boxers to ease the tension, gripping his cock tightly. He'll have to rush it, groaning when your legs subconsciously twitch and spread to let him fit in between.

"I feel like a fucking teenager" he argues, cupping your pussy and hunching over you.

He's missing a few steps, but seeing you so desperate and aching to cum urges him to help you out first.

"Since when did you start luring me in with your stupid quirk huh? Part of your little plan?" he questions, not letting you answer.

You're shaking your head, trying to mumble how you never tricked him into wanting you, not until this exact moment. But words are not your friend right now.

His eyes pierce through yours, beautiful blue swallowed up by the black of his pupils, half-lidded stare stripping you naked. Bare and vulnerable as your back arches, ghosting his fingers over the right spots and making you moan out a soft "Dabi".

It doesn't sound right on your tongue, and he sees the way it rolls off your lips, strained and dishonest.

His large hand wraps around your throat, holding you in place as he works the small bud, lowering his lips dangerously close, whispering across yours.

"Don't close your eyes." he demands.

It's in his arms reach, and everything is so close to making sense. If you look at him, he might start feeling like himself again. One of his fingers slowly dips inside your warmth, dragging the pad of it gently while he presses his thumb against your clit.

Your soft lips fit on his, your hands pulling him in by the back of his neck. He wants to make it slow and romantic, a nice reunion, yet he lets you slip your tongue in his mouth, deepening the kiss.

He's not holding himself up anymore, his body's weight shifting onto you with each thrust of his finger, the clacking sound of your pussy urging him to move even faster, make you feel even better. He adds in another one, watching you mewl and relax.

"That's fucking right, you wanted it, you fucking planned this, you sick fuck" he muses, catching you off guard. There's something bittersweet in the fact that he'll never be able to leave every little aspect of his life behind.

Before you even try to mumble something out, his lips are slamming against yours, teeth clashing and pulling on your soft skin.

You clench around him, riding his fingers greedily and roaming your hands across his back, fisting and gripping at his shirt.

You can feel the blood on your tongue, hissing when he pulls out only to slap his palm over your clit, causing you to yelp and pull away from the kiss.

"Touya, listen-" He shakes his head, nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

"You little stalker...how much work did you do for this cock huh?" he presses against you for good measure, making you feel his hot length on your cunt.

"You have no fucking idea" you snarl, gaining some of the confidence back, wiggling from beneath him.

He kicks his shoes and boxers all the way off, getting on your bed and pulling you to him.

His shirt is thrown messily to the edge of the bed, his hands pressing on the small of your back so that you can tower over him, trapping him between your thighs as he leans against the headboard.

Your ass slides over his cock, your hips moving slowly while he trails your figure, gliding his warm fingers across your thighs and up to your breasts.

Both of his hands cup the soft mounds, eyes glued to yours as he sticks his tongue out of his mouth. Hypersensitive to every little touch, your body shivers as he takes gentle, almost there swipes across your nipple, moving his arms back to your sides while he slips the sensitive bud in his mouth.

He lowers his thumb to your clit, flicking it slowly while he nips at your tits, biting and sucking marks across the smooth skin. His cock hooks and prods at your hole each time you both sway against each other, teasing you until the knot in your belly becomes too tight, skin crawling with pleasure wherever his body meets yours. He can hear your breath hitching in your throat, grinning while he speeds up the work on your clit, patiently waiting for you to start arching into his hand. He's gonna make you feel so good...convince you that chasing after him was the best decision you made in your life. Make up for all the years you had to deal with everything on your own.

He can feel your pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, making him push up in one slow and deep motion, immediately feeling the spasms of your soft walls gripping tight around his length. You let out a shaky breath, riding out the first high that finally satiates your quirk if only for a bit, making you drop your weight on him.

"There we go...Feeling better?" the ground might swallow you up, but when his hips start to lazily buck into you, you get distracted...You didn't notice how full you are, every inch pushing and stretching perfectly. You realize his finger never really stopped, only slowed down while he built up the agonizing pace he's bouncing you on.

You know your quirk makes you needy, but it makes everyone even more so, the realization that he probably feels like 9 circles of hell causing your hips to move, meeting his thrusts more roughly.

His head moves back to the headboard, eyes glued to yours as you ride him, propping yourself on his shoulders.

He ignored the burn of his body, too intoxicated and keen on making you feel better to focus on his aching cock, getting drowned in pleasure now that he can experience everything clearly.

You're beautiful.... and he wants to break you, make you blabber his name as you cling to him like he's the only one that can make you feel good. And he's gonna make sure he is. He admires you for a moment, cheeks heating up while watches your tits bounce, your eyes averting under his stare.

Your world turns upside down, your head sinking into a soft pillow as your legs are pushed as far as they can go.

You're scared to look away now, his gaze never breaking when he starts plowing in and out of your cunt, slamming his cock all the way in with each thrust.

His feet dig into your mattress, making the cheap bed creak.

You don't know where to put your hands, switching from the sheets to your thighs.

"Dumb little whore...is this all it takes?" he moves lower to you, pressing your spit coated lips against his.

You manage to hook your arms around his neck, swinging your legs behind his back.

He's plowing too deep, his navel bumping against your clit. He can't make himself pull out at all anymore, stuck on humping inside your pussy, slamming and angling his cock until you cry out.

Panting and groaning against your lips, he manages to slip a few curses, hissing when he tries to stop himself from cumming. Your quirk is cruel.

His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you still as he bottoms out completely, feeling his cock throb and spill, your walls tightening up against his shaft as hot cum paints them white.

He's high and addicted, already fucking his cum deeper, making sure it goes into every little crease and pore it can reach. You slip your fingers to your clit, trying to get yourself off while he rocks both of you.

"You wanna cum? Wanna milk my cock again huh? Want me to knock you up?" He's stammering it out, words spilling from his mouth in a rush, feeling the burning of his sensitive head as he picks up the pace again, slapping your hands away.

He raises just a bit, pressing one of his large palms on your belly.

His other hand slips to your clit instead, circling and flicking it to make you reach your high before he fills you up again.

Your whining does nothing to slow him down, his motions too rough and almost painful, your cervix bruising up when he presses even harder on your tummy, making your hips buck off the bed.

"Want you to cum...want you to make a mess..." he urges, a low rumble in his throat.

You can only nod, grabbing both of your thighs and spreading them further for him, your pussy open and on display to him to watch as it hugs his cock, slick and dripping.

You have to close your eyes, too embarrassed as you feel the burning sensation surge through you, eyes watering from the pressure as you finally let go. Your whole body tenses up, a low scream slipping out of your mouth when clear liquid splashes over your thighs and stomach, leaking onto his cock.

"Fucking hell" is all you can hear before he stuffs you full again, this time dropping onto your chest as his knees and feet numb out, hot breath tickling your neck as he moans against your skin.

Your weak hands slump on his back, muscles relaxed and barely working.

Someone is supposed to say something...minutes passing by quickly.

Your tired voice fills the room, a soft "Touya..." reaching his ears as you trail off. You're not sure what you wanted to say, but he holds you a little tighter, heart beating faster at the sound of his name.

He kisses your cheek softly, snuggling into the crook of your neck. "Fucking creep".

#dabi x reader #dabi x reader smut #touya x reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader lemon #dabi #bnha #mha #touya x reader lemon #touya x reader smut #idk #tags are weird

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angelicmichael · 3 years

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What if Xavier had a kid he didn't know about and he meets them for the first time after he's already a ghost? Maybe there's a kindergarten group that takes a trip to the camp, and he just has this spirit intuition as soon as he sees them and KNOWS it's his child. Do you think you could expand on this idea? I'd love to see what you come up with!

A/N: This was so fun, thank you for this idea dear anon!! I'm sorry it's late but hopefully u like it 😶. Also, I apologize this is so dark and heavy- I didnt intend for it.. it just, kinda happened lmfao. I turned this into a 'x reader' and it starts with Xaviers POV and ends with readers perspective!! First few paragraphs are pretty dark and then the rest is weird.. angst fluff LOL.Hope yall enjoy 💖💖💖

Warnings: First few paragraphs discuss Xavier's thots about dying SO, it highkey gets dark yall I'm so sorry, mentions of anger?? issues, mentions of murder, stops getting dark roughly around paragraph 6 if u wanna skip all that, MAJOR ANGST, reuniting, very brief Xantana reference 😈, mention of kids, bit of fluff.. think that's it :)

In Xaviers eyes; the worst part of being killed in a desolate camp and having to reside there for the rest of eternity; wasnt the fact that he would have to handle Richard Rameriez and tolerate his peers for eons to come. Sure, both of those things required an adjustment period but.. the realization that his life with you was abruptly cut short, was what truly broke him.

It took him being stripped from everything he once knew to truly appreciate how heavenly life once was before Camp Redwood. He had a steady job, good friends, and a relationship with a actual living, breathing person.. Not to shade Montana or anything, of course. However he had taken all of those things for fucking granted; moving to Camp Redwood definetly had made him become humble- at the very least. He was now nothing but a mere shell of the person he once was; nothing to bring him out of this absolute living nightmare he found himself in.. At first this mindset nearly consumed him, it drove him to kill multiple times.

There was no point in trying to conceal the anger he felt, no way of trying to channel it out into a more socially appropriate way and at this point.. there really was no point in trying to do so. Out here in the forest, espically after he was killed, life outside of the forest soon seemed as if it was some type of myth or fairytale- something not real or attainable. Time in the redwood forest felt different- days quickly bled and melted into weeks, and then months.. trying to guess the date was something Xavier gave up on doing after about the first week.

As much as he tried to deny it, being dead and becoming trapped here had completly made him lose his grip on reality and his previous life. Soon enough, the thought that life even fully existed outside of the camp and that there was actual fucking laws against killing (something which was now a leisurely hobby) had completly slipped his mind momentarily in the beginning as well. Out here in the forest, nothing felt real execpt for his anger that he held onto so tightly.

It was really the only thing he had left; atleast for a while.

The pain of losing his partner, (y/n), still remained but letting that grief not consume him was easily the hardest battle he had fought in his life. Xavier realized he still had his friends - and if he really was going to live for eternity, he sure wasnt going to spend it angry.

After so many years of being 'cursed' to spend forever in this forest, keeping track of the time was something Xavier rarely bothered with, but - it was obvious by the suns posistion, and even the slight mist that made the grass wet that it was just starting to cut into morning. Xavier walked through the forest alone, nowhere in particular to go or to necessarily do, only a sudden need to go and be alone. Almost a beckoning, for him to go and be somewhere else. To witness something.

His days were more often than not purely mundane; he had absolutely no excuse to not listen to this odd and sudden attraction he felt toward a very particular spot in the camp.. so, that's what brought him to where he stood now. Close to the road that brought visitors (a nice word for victims) into Camp Redwood, right next to the mess hall which was rarely used close by.

Xavier felt wildly uncomfortable standing so close to the place which previously held so much trauma - and honestly still did.. The place where Chef Bertie died. Xavier paused, about to just say 'fuck it' and just give up and go back to where his friends resided (or atleast Montana) when.. he heard it.

His sign, the thing that seemingly enticed him in the first place.

It first sounded like the old, familar sounds of tires coming across a gravel road - Xaviers mind immeadietly jumped to perhaps this could be new people.. new vistors.. new victims.

His blood ran cold when he heard something else; an eerie ringing of chains hitting against the ground. Something that was mostly a associated with buses.. and hauntingly familar. He had little to no time to think or even act on his suspicion when he noticed that a yellow school bus full, and nearly combusting with children was pulling into the camp.

Xavier wasnt exactly certain the bounds that ghosts had when it came to certain bodily functions like vomiting, but hes sure that under normal circumstances he would certainly be sick by now. Nevertheless he could feel his body tense up and the other natural symptoms associated with anxiety also kicked in. Urging him to clumsily get out of vision; he stumbled behind a few trees that poorly blocked him from sight. He continued to watch in complete and utter horror as the bus came to a stop, and it didnt take long for kids to start pouring out of the bus. Xavier felt his heart drop and his blood run cold every time a kid exited the bus and stepped on the dirt soil of Camp Redwood.

Xavier whipped his head around; scanning the surrounding area to make sure no other ghosts were here to bear witness to this.. Xavier was nearly always down to commit murder, it was really the only thing that kept him from fully going insane from pure fucking boredom but - kids? There was no fucking way he would let anyone touch them.

While he thoroughly scanned the area, he noticed a few adults leave the bus out of his periphery vision. He thought nothing of it, chaperones were to be expected on elementary field trips but.. the strange beckoning feeling he felt ealier visited him again, urging him to turn his head fully and look at one of the chaperones more closely. Instantaneously, he then automatically realized why he felt so compelled to come to this spot.. Why he was meant to be here at this exact moment.. It was you.

At first he thought he was merely hallucinating; you definetly looked significantly different from the last time he had saw you but.. he knew it was you, his partner that he had before his life completly went to shit (minus the catastrophe that occured with Blake, of course). He knew instantly, it was your eyes, your stature and just.. your overall warm and familiar aura that gave your identity away. He couldnt believe that the person he had so fucking desperately wanted to see more than anyone or anything was only a few feet away - and now, that you were finally here... All he wanted for you to do was to leave.

As soon as he saw you he felt a sudden tightness posses his chest and throat which accompanied the formation of tears burning his eyes; hastily blurring his vision. He had to physically restrain himself from sobbing outloud; trying his best to just swallow down his tears. His whole body felt as if it was on fire with anxiety, but he chose to continue to stand still behind a few dainty trees - trying to pull himself together so he could actually have the chance to think critically and choose what the ever living fuck he was going to do next.

While he waited for his blurry vision to clear, he chose to focus on the semi distant figure that he knew was you. He took in the little details; like how the sun highlighted the colors in your hair and your simple but charming outfit. It took him several moments to think of why you would even be here in the first place, with a school bus- and thats when another dreadful realization hit him.

Only parents were mainly chaperones when it came to elementary field trips.. meaning-

No other thought crossed Xaviers mind as his eyes flicked down inhumanely fast to the child where (y/n) stood next too.. and immeadietly he knew.

The features the child shared of both you and Xavier were partially a giveaway, but most importantly.. it was the feeling he had that confirmed his belief. The initial anxiety he felt of the kids arriving still remained but was significantly muted and mostly replaced with a overwhelming sense of pure love. The feeling spread to every fiber of his being, and so did a odd urge to protect this small being which he knew was his.

Not ever in his entire life had he felt this way about someone (execpt for perhaps, you). He felt himself taking a few steps forward, at first completly involuntary but he knew he had to talk to you. Just the idea of reuniting tasted so fucking good but, he knew he couldnt get too greedy if he was going to talk to you. He knew confronting you had to be solely done in order to save you and his child, he couldnt get carried away. He wouldnt.

He tried his best to appear casual as he submerged from behind the trees, his hands held behind his back - the only way he could get them to stop shaking. He tried to relax his shoulders and appear confident as he strided up to you; your back turned toward him. He continued until he was directly behind you, he wanted to tap your shoulder but - touching you seemed out of the question. That would confirm everything, it would make it seem actually real and not like this just some torturous dream.

"(Y/n)"? He spoke.

Xaviers breath hitched as he watched you whip around to face him. He studied your features as you went from looking utterly confused to surprised beyond belief.

"Xavier, what-"

"We need to talk".

Xavier quickly grabbed your hand, leading you away from herd of kids and the few sparse chaperones that were amongst them. A few of them gave you two a few odd looks but neither you or Xavier particularly cared, after all this was the first time in years you two had seen eachother. You hastily followed his lead, feeling slightly embarrassed that it was obvious how nervous and simply caught off guard you currently were. Your palms (one of which was still holding onto Xaviers hand) were starting to moisten with sweat. These feelings only amplified once Xavier turned around to face you. The intensity that was in his eyes put you on edge - never in your time of dating or knowing him did he ever look so serious with you.

"What are you doing here"? Xavier spoke, his voice was still in a higher pitch, slightly breaking.

"What"?

After years of not being able to see you, in fact; years of you not even knowing where he went - this was how he chose to greet you?? Automatically your blood ran cold with the sudden realization that something was wrong. Seriously wrong.. but the feeling didnt just apply to your ex boyfriend. It was the entire camp.

"Its not safe here, you need to take the kids and leave". Xaviers voice more visibly shook this time as he spoke; as if his words physically pained him.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sudden pain and anguish starting to fully settle in. You couldnt believe it; after years of not seeing you - this was all he had to say? Was he fucking joking?

"What? A-are you kidding? Xavier, I havent seen you in years- I didnt even know you would be here-"

"I'm sorry (y/n). I'm so sorry but you have no idea what this place is like. You just need to go, and the kids. And promise me you wont come back".

It was torturous to watch tears gather in Xaviers eyes, and watch as they streaked down his cheeks. The sadness you previously felt was now washed away with red, hot rage. The feeling spread throughout your body like a wildfire that he was seemingly rejecting you.. but you knew now this wasnt some pathetic excuse. Something was seriously wrong here; and now it was starting to become too obvious to ignore.

Xavier looked hauntingly the exact same from the last time you saw him. He forever, looked as if he was still stuck in the same moment of time - like in the summer of 1984, which was when you last saw him.

You didnt realize you were still holding onto one of his hands until you reflexively tried to move it to brush away his tears that were still staining his cheeks; but awkwardly.. you chose to do so with your other hand. Squeezing the one hand you were still holding onto a bit tighter.

He winced as you touched him, and as much you tried your damn best to hold it together - you could feel tears starting to burn your eyes as well.

"I cant promise I wont ever come back, Xavier. I need to see you again, and what about-" you said softly, about to reference the child you two shared together.

"No, you'll see me again (y/n). I promise.. okay"?

He brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles; the tears you trying so desperately to hold in were now sliding down your cheeks. Your breathing was now horribly choppy. You were on the brink of full on sobbing but you held yourself back - it was nearly time for you to go.

The fact you would have to go back to go the others and make up some bullshit excuse to leave, put a bitter taste in your mouth.. but your sure Xavier had a valid reason for ushering you to leave. Even if he didnt want to tell you right now; you trusted him with your life.

"Okay.. Fine. I'm coming back though, and I'm sorry I couldnt find you sooner". You admitted.

You dropped his hand that you were still holding in order to wrap your arms around him. To get one final touch to remember him by. You were desperate to fully touch him and to be wrapped in his embrace, something you had desperately and madly missed. As he held you; you tried to soak in his scent, his aura.. just the fact that he was even here seriously with you, in this moment.

You previously assumed Xavier had passed away; that was easier to come to terms with rather than thinking he willingly ran away or.. that something else more sinister had happened. A part of you wanted to be frustrated that you were leaving with more questions than answers but.. you didnt care. Your heart didnt care. You were just happy you were able to see your boyfriend.. no matter the circumstance or conditions it came with. Even though you were stupidly happy, your thoughts kept annoyingly circling back to the same question - how was Xavier here with you, living.. breathing.. in the flesh. How was this possible? You were about to speak your thoughts outloud when you first felt Xavier break away from you. You didnt get as much as a second glance just when you felt something soft on your cheek. Perhaps a goodbye kiss? and then.. just like he wasnt there at all, he was gone. Almost as if he completly disintegrated into the fresh, morning sky.

You felt your entire body stiffen as you realized he was gone.. again. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly how you felt. It was a nasty mix of both grief and anger that left you completly speechless and deathly still. You took a step back to combat the feeling, and attempted to look casual (and not like the person whom you were just hugging had completly fucking vanished). Sheepishly taking a look at the group you had arrived with and making sure none of them noticed your.. odd behavior.

Sure enough, none of them did. They all stood, and continued on conversing just like they were before you had broke away from them. Smiling and laughing as if nothing was wrong; just like they didnt have a care in the world - just as if the love of their life wasnt ripped away from them for a second time.

Even though Xavier was now gone, that odd, unsettling feeling still lingered with you. Like something was terribly wrong here, in Camp Redwood. The feeling wasn't entirely bad though; sure - the overall air in this place reeked of something terrible but.. now you felt something else mixed into it. A comforting essence of safety; Xaviers presence. You knew he wasnt directly beside you anymore but he was somewhere.. lurking. Watching you, as you begrudgingly walked over to the group you came with. Making up a bullshit excuse in your head so you could escape whatever this place was pretending to be.

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @instincts-baby let me know if u would like to be added!! :)

#xavier x reader #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton fanfic #ahs fanfic #cody fern fanfic #my fic #inbox is officially empty now 💅🏻#hopefully the pov switching wasnt weird LOL #it was my first time writing like that hehe #i lowkey feel bad i made this so dark so hopefully its still enjoyable LOL #also this doesnt rlly follow canon details that well but- idc djdjd

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raisindeatre · 3 years

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Hi 💙 I was wondering if you might share your thoughts on Zoya as a character in general? I've read the Grisha trilogy and Six of Crows duology, and I'd like to read King of Scars/Rule of Wolves to complete the series, but while I found Zoya to be quite interesting she's never been a favourite of mine or a character I found myself connecting to, so I've been worried I might not enjoy the next two books as much because of that, so I wondered if some insight from someone who seems to like her and her relationship with Nikolai might help me understand her character a little more, or do you think reading those next two books is what really connects you to her character? Thank you! 💙

Thank you so much for this question, anon! I think it's completely understandable that you don't connect much to Zoya in the original trilogy because in those books Bardugo doesn't really give us much to connect with, imo. I've said before that her prose has improved by staggering leaps and bounds since TGT, but her characterization has too - she sketches the characters in the SoC duology, especially, in ways that are so much richer and compelling than in the first trilogy. Combined with the fact that TGT is told through Alina's perspective, and we get a Zoya who's not just thinly sketched but is also pretty unlikeable for a good part of the series (I suspect that Bardugo meant to do an inversion of the Bitchy Girl™ trope, but it didn't quite land for me). I truly believe that a lot of my fondness for Zoya stems from the fact that I read a lot of fantastic fic back when the original trilogy had just wrapped up, and I think reading so much of other people's thoughts and analysis on Zoya made her a deeper and more interesting character to me, because the Zoya in canon is not all that compelling imo. So, like, I get it.

All that said though!! I was always fond of Zoya, even in canon, and I think I was pretty predisposed to love her even before KoS/RoW primarily because the idea of Zoya has always been such a fascinating one to me. (I just needed that idea to be filled out a little more, and the duology definitely did that for me, so I really do think I love her more for that). The original trilogy tends to centre the notion that Alina and the Darkling are each other's counterparts, each other's parallels, and that's where a lot of fan analysis stops as well. Light and Dark! Sun and Shadow! It's not subtle.

But the thing is - Zoya is the real mirror to the Darkling. They share so many similarities - they're both powerful, ambitious, proud, with the potential to be absolutely ruthless. They share the same common goal - the protection of all Grisha. Alina wants to be powerful, but she doesn't really have the appetite to really rule, to sit on a throne and govern. Zoya and the Darkling do. Alina doesn't want anyone to get hurt, but I think it's fair to say she doesn't feel the same intense self-preservation and loyalty to the Grisha that Zoya and the Darkling do. Much of their experiences are the same: while Alina came into her power at a pretty advanced age, Zoya and the Darkling know what it's like to be powerful even as children, and to be feared and hated for it. And much of what I think are Zoya's best qualities (her fierce protectiveness of her people, her courage, her determination, her sense of self-preservation) are all qualities the Darkling shares. It's why when people fall over themselves for the Darkling, but profess to hating Zoya in the same breath, it does tend to make me raise an eyebrow.

And I just think theirs is such a fascinating dynamic, much more so than Alina and the Darkling. Because the moment the Darkling loses sight of his original goal and goes too far - when the man who professes to want to safeguard the Grisha murders dozens of them - that's when Zoya turns against him and goes to stand with Alina. Alina is understandably horrified by the massacre, but I've always thought that the depth of Zoya's rage and grief and betrayal must have been much more intense. Unlike Alina, these Grisha were her family. Unlike Alina, she has admired the Darkling her whole life. Alina has moments of fearing that she will turn out to be like the Darkling, but I never really understood that - I think that Zoya's fear of the same, given the history and similarities she shares with the Darkling, is much more realistically grounded.

And I think at the end of the trilogy, when the dust has settled and Alina has settled into obscurity, when Zoya and Nikolai are faced with the almost unthinkable notion of rebuilding Ravka, it's very present on Zoya's mind that the ruthlessness required to defend Ravka and protect the Grisha might be what led the Darkling down that road in the first place. She needs to reckon with what is required of her and how far she can go, without becoming him. Gaze long into the abyss, but take care it does not gaze back. So in that sense, the idea of Zoya has always been something I've loved.

I also really loved the idea of her as a general, as someone so intrinsically involved in the rebuilding of Ravka. I was an IR major in uni - I adore anything to do with political machinations, the intricacies and brutality of peace treaties and trade negotiations, the ever-shifting dynamics between countries. I was super excited to see so much of that in KoS/RoW, and I think it's immensely rewarding to see Zoya grappling with so many of the issues that the original trilogy (with its very YA-ish focus on A Great Battle for the Fate of the World) doesn't consider: will there ever be a future where Grisha aren't forced to be soldiers? What would that even look like? How would we get there? What will I have to do to secure it? How far will I go?

Finally, all ideas of Zoya aside and looking at her actual characterization: my wife is a bitch and I like her so much! Your mileage may vary, but I really do find the fact that Zoya is written to be so unlikeable extremely refreshing. Bardugo doesn't really have any off-putting characters, especially female - Alina is pretty likeable, Nina is bold and endearing, Genya is clever and a character to root for, Inej quietly stakes her place in people's affections - and I think it's so great to have a woman who's so prickly and unfriendly and easily annoyed. In KoS/RoW we do learn more about Zoya and her backstory, and I guess it does go some way to explaining why she is the way she is, but I am also a fan of just letting female characters being bitchy sometimes!!! Her abrasiveness doesn't mean that she doesn't have so much love and courage and selflessness in her - almost more than she can bear, and watching her journey to realizing that love is not something to run from but to embrace is so good - and I just. I just think she's neat!

I won't go too much into her relationship with Nikolai because this is already horrendously long, and I will probably talk about them in another post, because they drive me crazy, but I just think they spark off each other in ways they don't with other people. Nikolai needs someone who loves Ravka as much as he does, someone who is really willing to march into war or sit in meeting rooms for hours and just give everything, everything she has to this greedy, broken country which will give her nothing back. Alina is not that person. Very few people are that person. But Zoya is. It's probably also that by the time KoS/RoW rolls around, they have been working together for a few years, while the original trilogy is much shorter in time, but Zoya and Nikolai in this duology really give off a sense of familiarity and trust in each other that is just SO!!! She always calls him out on his shit. They butt heads. They push each other to be better.

I will close by saying: in RoW there's a part where Nikolai thinks of Zoya, "There she was. Bitter and bracing as strong drink", and I just love this observation an outsize amount. I love that Zoya is not for everyone, that she has a real kick to her. I love the implication that she braces Nikolai; that she keeps him awake and on his toes. It's all very Ingmar Bergman's "We make each other alive. Does it matter if it hurts?" I think they are just more alive around each other than around anyone else, that they are better together than apart. They keep each other going.

#god this is long!!! but i hope this helped anon #imo there are a lot of other reasons why KoS/RoW might disappoint you as they disappointed me #just extremely weird pacing! KoS was a saggy morass whereas RoW had way too much going on #i think i've outgrown fanservice so bringing back characters for the sake of bringing them back is something i hate!!!#there were some really weird plots that went nowhere!!!#but i'm still glad i read them. i hope you are too; should you decide to do so #zoya nazyalensky #the grisha trilogy #king of scars #rule of wolves #long post #asks #anonymous

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siriuslyshewrote · 4 years

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In The End - Shelby!Sister

Request - Shelby sis prompt(s): Included a few in case they are pretty awful lol but just maybe they might inspire you a bit - your creativity would make them good! 1. She gets kidnapped by sabini / changretta and it follows her brothers going absolutely insane trying to get her back between her trying to survive

Okay, so this is kinda a sequel to Good Grief, but you don’t really need to read it, I’ll just be using a bit of the storyline.

John’s still alive. I refuse to accept his death.

Warnings - blood, swearing, kidnapping

10:38 // 3rd May

1928

- - - - Bonnie - - - -

The boys footsteps were quick, an almost run, a tell of the frantic thoughts he was having, whilst trying to reassure himself at the same time. His face was slightly sweaty - he’d ran over a few miles to get here - by the time he reached the door of the house he knew well.

He usually would have hesitated, slightly nervous, before knocking, but there wasn’t time for that. He needed the reassurance, the smile of the girl he loved, to calm his fast beating heart, and the feeling in his stomach, that something was so very desperately wrong.

His knuckles were still sore off the last bare knuckle fight he had, but he didn’t care, rapping on the door loud enough so that the residents inside could hear above the chaos that usually reigned inside the house at 6, Watery Lane, Small Heath.

The door swung open quicker than he thought it would, and so he jumped a little, pulling his cap off his head, holding it in his hands, playing with the soft fabric, trying to calm that damn feeling in his stomach. His thumb accidentally brushed over the blade sewn in there - the crown of a king, one of the Blinders had once told him - and blood appeared on the skin. He didn’t even look at it, instead paying his attention to the woman in front of him.

“Miss Shelby - Gray.” He quickly corrected himself. “Is she here?”

The woman’s forehead creased a little, her previously soft eyes hardening a little. Polly Gray, of all people, would be able to share the feeling he had right now.

“Who?” Her voice sounded as though she wished for a different answer to what he would give her.

“Y/N? Is she here?”

She paused. “No. Bonnie, why would she be here?”

“She..” Bonnie’s heart thrummed faster than before, his mind spinning with thoughts of what could have happened, none of them good. He swallowed. “She said she was coming to the market, to get something ... she said she would make dinner tonight, she’s really excited-“

“Bonnie.” Her voice was harsher now, the anxiety he felt now visible in her eyes. “When did you last see her?”

“Three hours ago. I thought - I thought she got distracted, thought she came here, maybe, to resolve everything , but I just - I had a bad feeling. I had to come check on her.”

The sickening feeling he had had for hours was worse now. The smell of blood from his thumb reached his nose, and he couldn’t help but think about who else could be bleeding right now. Guilt filled him - why didn’t he come and check on her sooner?

Polly turned round, quickly, leaving the door open behind her, which he guessed was a sign to follow her deeper into the house, walking fast towards the kitchen, then to the curtains, pulling them open fast, to reveal what looked like a family meeting.

“Bonnie Gold.” Tommy’s stony blue eyes regarded him, not filling him with the usual feeling of intimidation, but with anger. If anything had happened to her, it was because of the family that was sat in front of him.

“Mr Shelby, I-“ He hated that he still felt the need to address the man in front of him formally after everything he had done to ruin his and Y/N’s relationship.

“Y/N’s missing.” Polly interrupted him, standing slightly in front of him, her shoulders rising and falling quicker than usual, becoming panicked. “She’s missing , Thomas.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” John’s voice was louder than the rest of the family’s in the chaos, his eyes very firmly fixed onto Bonnie with a look of such intense anger, Bonnie was surprised he didn’t launch himself across the room and hit him in the face.

“She’s fucking missing?” Esme’s voice was loud too, her usual strong voice permeated with panic. She had cared for you like a parent - and you had lived with her and John until you moved out four months ago - and Bonnie knew how much you would hate seeing her in distress right now, no matter if you weren’t particularly talking to any of them.

Bonnie’s fingers were still picking at his cap, his foot tapping on the ground with the anxiety he was feeling - not because of the Shelby family, no, he didn’t give a fuck about them right now. He cared about you, where the hell you could possibly be.

You didn’t have any close friends - being a Shelby didn’t exactly invite a lot of people to want to be close to you, and apart from the family in front of you, he had no clue where you would be. You had been nervy for months, not really liking being alone, a product of how you had grown up, in constant danger, really, and so he couldn’t imagine you deciding to go anywhere new. He hated himself, now, for his gentle insistence over the past months, trying to get you to be more independent - if he hadn’t, perhaps you wouldn’t ever have left him this morning.

It seemed so eerily coincidental that at exactly the moment the family found out about you going missing, the phone started to ring.

- - - - Y/N - - - -

You were only supposed to be gone an hour or so, at most, just a quick trip to the market in Small Heath, for some of the food you had been craving for weeks, for dinner. Perhaps if you hadn’t taken the detour you had, you wouldn’t have been in the situation you now were, or perhaps you would.

You had been desperate to see your family, though you hadn’t told anyone that, still keeping up your stubborn facade that Bonnie had been trying to break down for months. You were still angry, of course you were, at your brothers, which extended to the rest of the family, who, of course, took their side. You didn’t want to speak to them, per say, just see them, just to see that they were okay. You hadn’t talked to any of them, aside from Ada in London, since you had stormed out of John’s house months ago, after finding out what they had said to Bonnie, not even to Finn, which was killing you. You hadn’t ever even spent a full day away from your twin brother before, and so it half felt like you were missing a limb, but you knew out of them all, it would be Finn that would be able to convince you to talk to them again, and so, you stayed distant. And so did they.

There was a small alley, just a few metres away from where the market was held, and it was well known to you - it was a shortcut home, if you and Finn ever stayed out just too late, and needed to get back home before Aunt Polly stormed the streets of Small Heath trying to find you. None of the Shelby’s still lived in the house on Watery Lane, but it was still their main point for business, and you had no doubt that the majority of them would be there. You didn’t think that it was stupid to go into that alley - didn’t think that you, for once, didn’t have the safety of your brother with you - but you should have.

Because as soon as you were only a few feet into the dark alley, you felt cold metal being struck into the back of your head with so much force that you crumpled to the ground, blacked out, before you could even comprehend what had happened.

- - - - Bonnie - - - -

It was Thomas that took the phone call, of course. He didn’t show any emotion, simply listening to it, though his stony facade was betrayed by the whites of his knuckles showing through his skin, with how tightly he was gripping the telephone. The room was silent, no one even breathing, waiting for the news that they were sure was in that phone call.

Tommy placed the phone down on the reciever with a slam, one of his hands rubbing his face, in stress.

“Fuck.” He exclaimed, his voice gruff and angry.

“What the fuck’s happened?” John was the first to speak, the brother that was arguably the most protective over you, getting up from the table.

“Some fucking gang has her-“

“What?” Bonnies voice was louder than the others, his tone furious and terrified. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Finn was the only one sat in silence, his hands gripping the wooden table, knuckles white, head bowed as if in prayer.

“Oh god.” Polly whispered.

Tommy regarded him again, but this time there was visible worry in his face. This was his little sister, after all, the one who he had helped raise when their mother died when the twins - Y/N and Finn - were only toddlers. This was the sister who he’d held when she was terrified to go to school on her first day, and later, when she’d been pushed over and laughed at, because of her parents - her drunk father, and ‘crazy’ mother - and ripped her new dress that Polly had spent hours making. It had been him who had taught her how to tie her laces, him who taught her how to climb trees, to kick and punch at the kids who made fun of her.

Yes. It had been Thomas who had protected her , her whole life. And now he was her downfall, the reason she was gone. Him, and his stupid razor gang, that Bonnie now regretted ever being a part of. He dropped the cap from his hands, letting it drop onto the dirty ground.

“We’ll get her back. They want money.”

“Well, fucking give them it!” Polly exclaimed.

Tommy exhaled. “They won’t give her back, even if we do. We have to find her.”

“How do you know that?” Bonnie spat. “Just give them the money!”

“Because these people, they’re greedy. They will just want more and more.”

“How are you going to find her? She could be fucking anywhere.” Bonnie’s voice cracked, and he didn’t try to hide it like he usually would in front of the older men.

“I’ll send my men out. To get information, to look in all the abandoned-“

“And you think that’s going to get her back?”

“Yes. These people - they’re amateurs, I can tell. Someone will have seen something. And they’ll tell us. We’ll get her back.”

“How can you be so fucking sure?”

“Because I know my sister. Do you?”

Part two should be up tomorrow, if people want it!!

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #finn shelby imagines #finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #isaiah jesus #isaiah jesus imagine #bonnie gold #bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold imagine #bonnie gold imagines #bonnie gold fanfic #shelby sister #peaky blinders imagine

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x-fern-weh-x · 3 years

Text

my favorite grishaverse quotes - part three: nikolai duology

"Zoya of the lost city. Zoya of the garden. Zoya bleeding in the snow. You are strong enough to survive the fall." (King of Scars)

"This is what love does. In the stories, love healed your wounds, fixed what was broken, allowed you to go on. But love wasn’t a spell, some kind of benediction to be whispered, a balm or a cure-all. It was a single, fragile thread, which grew stronger through connection, through shared hardship and trust." (Rule of Wolves)

"Most of us can hide our greatest hurts and longings. It’s how we survive each day. We pretend the pain isn’t there, that we are made of scars instead of wounds." (King of Scars)

"'Get a message to the Crow Club,' she said. 'Tell Kaz Brekker the queen of Ravka has a job for him.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"Do that thing you do where you use too many words to say something simple and confuse the issue." (King of Scars)

"'I’m not supposed to let you in,' Jesper said. Brekker seemed unperturbed. 'Why not?' 'Because every time I do, you ask me to break the law.' A voice from behind Jesper said, 'The problem isn’t that he asks, it’s that you always say yes.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"'Say something spiteful.' "'Why?' she asked faintly. "'Because I’m fairly certain I'm hallucinating and in my dreams you're much nicer.'" (King of Scars)

"Because I am greedy for the sight of you. Because the prospect of facing this war, this loss, without you fills me with fear. Because I find I don’t want to fight for a future if I can’t find a way to make a future with you." (Rule of Wolves)

"It's not exciting if nothing can go wrong." (King of Scars)

"I would choose you, Zoya. As my general, as my friend, as my bride. I would give you a sapphire the size of an acorn. And all I would ask in return is that you wear this damnable ribbon in your hair on our wedding day." (Rule of Wolves)

"Everyone mourns the first blossom. Who will grieve the rest who fall?" (King of Scars)

"'I have to bathe. I smell like a forest fire.' 'You smell like wildflowers. You always do. What can I say to make you stay?' His words trailed off into a drowsy mumble as he fell back asleep. 'Tell me it’s more than war and worry that makes you speak those words. Tell me what they would mean if you weren’t a king and I weren’t a soldier.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"Remember who you are. Nikolai knew. He was a king who had only begun to make mistakes. He was a solider for whom the war would never be over. He was a bastard left alone in the woods. And he was not afraid to die this day." (King of Scars)

"Maybe the gift of being human is that we do not give up- even when all hope is lost." (Rule of Wolves)

"They would build a new world together. But first they had to burn the old one down." (King of Scars)

"The world might crumble, but Nikolai Lantsov would be holding up the ceiling with one hand and plucking a speck of dirt from his lapel with the other when it all went to ruin." (Rule of Wolves)

"'Yuri Veneden, if you upset my wife again, I will kill you where you stand.' The monk swallowed. 'Yes, moi soverenyi.' 'Oh, David,' Genya said, taking his hand. 'You've never theatened to murder anyone for me before.'" (King of Scars)

"Go home and tell them what you've seen, Nikolai thought as the demon soared through the night. Make them believe you. Tell them the demon king rules Ravka now and vengeance is coming." (Rule of Wolves)

"She wished she had Inej’s gift for spywork or Kaz’s gift for scheming, but she only seemed to have Jesper’s gift for bad decisions." (King of Scars)

"Let the hounds give chase. I do not fear death, because I command it." (Rule of Wolves)

"'Will you be taking up juggling as well?' 'Don't be ridiculous,' Nikolai replied. 'I already know how to juggle. Literally and figuratively.'" (King of Scars)

"'This is a bad idea,' moped Adrik. 'I have a surplus of bad ideas,' said Nikolai. 'I have to spend them somewhere.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"He would not find another excuse to get her talking again. He would not tell her he was afraid to be left alone with the thing he might become, and he would not ask her to leave the lamp burning, a child's bit of magic to ward off the dark. But he was relieved when she did it anyway.” (King of Scars)

"The Darkling's gray eyes studied Mal with more interest than he'd ever shown before. 'I understand we're blood related.' Mal shrugged. 'We all have relatives we don't like.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"Zoya's company was like strong drink. Bracing--and best to abstain if you couldn't handle the kick.” (King of Scars)

"'Don't get ahead of yourself,' Zoya said. 'Nikolai hasn't asked.' 'Can you blame him?' Genya said. 'He hasn't had much luck with proposals.' Alina snorted. 'Maybe he should have offered me a dynasty and not a piddly little emerald.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"'Hand me that brandy,' said Zoya. 'I can’t tolerate this degree of stupidity on a clear head.'" (King of Scars)

"'Is it the shadow inside you that makes you brave?' 'I should hope not. I was making bad decisions long before that thing showed up.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"'That squash is as wide as I am tall,' Nikolai said beneath his breath as he smiled and waved. 'And twice as handsome.' 'Half as handsome,' he protested. 'Ah,' said Zoya, 'but the squash doesn't talk.'" (King of Scars)

"I'll tell you a thousand stories, my love. We'll write the new endings, one by one." (Rule of Wolves)

"After all this time, she still had not found an end to her grief. It was a dark well, an echoing place into which she’d once cast a stone, sure that it would strike bottom and she would stop hurting. Instead, it just kept falling. She forgot about the stone, forgot about the well, sometimes for days or even weeks at a time. Then she would think Liliyana’s name, or her eye would pause on the little boat painted on her bedroom wall, its two-starred flag frozen in the wind. She’d sit down to write a letter and realize she had no one to write to, and the quiet that surrounded her became the silence of the well, of the stone still falling." (King of Scars)

"I would make you my queen because I want you. I want you all the time." (Rule of Wolves)

"'Eat, Your Highness.' 'Everything tastes like doom,' he whispered. 'Then add salt.'" (King of Scars)

"Ravka made me a soldier. Ketterdam made me a spy. Hanne can help me become something else entirely." (King of Scars)

"'You do realize you just referred to yourself as the queen. That means you agreed.' 'I am going to kill you.' 'So long as you kiss me again before you do.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"'I'm fairly sure you're trying to frighten me,' said Nikolai, reaching out a finger to touch the tip of the thorn. 'I'm not sure why, but may I suggest a spider wearing a suit?' 'Why a suit?' asked Zoya, frowning. 'Why not just a spider?' 'Where did he get the suit? How did he fasten the buttons? Why does he feel the need to dress for the occasion?'" (King of Scars)

"'Your heart is in your eyes, Your Highness,' murmured Tamar, wiping the sweat from her brow. Tolya poled his twin in the arm with a sparring sword. 'Tamar knows because that's the way she looks at her wife' 'I am free to look at my wife any way I please.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"In Nikolai's experience, honesty was much like herbal tea - something well-meaning people recommended when they were out of better options." (King of Scars)

"We would go on, you and I. If I couldn't be queen, you would find a way to win this battle and save this country. You would make a sheltering place for my people. You would march an bleed and crack terrible jokes until you had done all you said you would. I suppose that's why I love you." (Rule of Wolves)

"'I think fatigue suits you, Zoya. The pallor. The shadows beneath your eyes. You look like a heroine in a novel.' 'I look like a woman about to step on your foot.' 'Now, now. You're managing remarkably well. And the smiling hasn't killed you yet.' 'Yet.'" (King of Scars)

"'Why does it matter?' asked Nikolai. 'Because unlike Kaz, I have a conscience.' 'I have a conscience,' said Kaz. 'It just knows when to keep its mouth shut.' Jesper snorted. 'If you have a conscience, it’s gagged and tied to a chair somewhere.'" (Rule of Wolves)

"So you know the best way to find Grisha who don't want to be found? Look for miracles and listen to bedtime stories." (King of Scars)

"'Of course it won’t last,' said Zoya. 'What does?' 'True love?' suggested Tamar. 'Great art?' said Tolya. 'A proper grudge,' replied Zoya" (Rule of Wolves)

#grishaverse #king of scars #rule of wolves #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #nina zenik #genya safin #hanne brum

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friendlylocalwhumper · 3 years

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quinn, dawn's green-grey, and the vibes of echoes on cold cement!

content warning: referenced death, referenced gore, dark hopeless vibes.

These alley walls hold shadows that flicker even when there are no clouds overhead. Echoes, even when no voices are ringing out to cast them. It’s colder in this space than out on the street, and not just because of the wind caught between the buildings.

Quinn sits on the ground, leaning against a grimy brick wall, and stares at the alley floor. If they look at one spot and let their eyes go unfocused, they can almost see the bodies they found here, once.

Koda. Jost. Nikhil. Peter. Cap. Noam. Two-face. Emmie.

Tired brown eyes unfocus further until memory-corpses fade into fog.

Koda was always pushing into their space. Nudging, grabbing, joking around with Quinn. Getting up in their face with a big grin, or a smirk, or a frown. All about face-to-face confrontations, he was. Chomping on gum, kicking his feet up on furniture, slamming doors without meaning to. Dakota never had a lick of cowardice in him. He must have been the first to die.

The night is deep, but there’s a whisper of silver on the horizon, peeking out behind a building’s pointed roof. It’s not that cold but Quinn’s fingers and toes feel numb, their own heartbeat sounding muffled in their ears.

Jost was odd. Mysterious, but not like Quinn; he was from some other country, but every time he was asked which, he said a different one. Not very good at accents, but no one could ever pinpoint his real one, since he was always faking. He had a little smile that slipped out every time he confused someone with his single, constant trick. He liked touching coins, finding old ones, reading the tiny words and dates printed on them. Quinn never saw him in a fight, but they doubt he would have run away from one - he probably lingered long enough, deciding what to do, that he got caught up in the violence and went down hard.

Light is creeping up behind the silhouettes of the night. Black melts into a sickly grey. Ugly, these first moments of dawn. Only something ugly could loom over this haunted place.

Nikhil never seemed to sleep. His humor was dark and fleeting, his attention always scattered. He could write two different things at once, each hand occupied. It was never in the name of efficiency or productivity, though; Quinn always suspected that Nikhil was so scared of dying that he had to prove to himself constantly that he was alive. He never shared with the others what he went through to make him feel that way. In the end, he faced his worst fear far too soon.

A tinge of green has seeped into the sky, mixing with the orange that the thin edge of the sun is leaking. Some might call it golden, gorgeous. To Quinn, it is rotten, brown-tinged. The alley smells wet. Dew is coming soon.

Peter was sweet. Sandy hair, eyes with a ring of gold in them, a scar on his cheek that he swore was a birthmark. All he ever wanted was to play games. Board games, card games, drunken games, late-night chatting games centered around shared laughs and misheard whispers. He just loved people, and in turn, everyone else loved him. If you got enough cheap wine in him, he’d drape himself over your lap and loosely proclaim his love for you, his wonder at having such great friends. He was so bright and kind that Quinn can’t even imagine what his death must have looked like, sounded like. There’s a blank spot in their mind where they try to envision it.

Beads of water have formed on the only plant in the alley, a weed with long, thin leaves. They buckle under the weight. Quinn glares at the wretched thing as sunlight encroaches on this shadowy space. It’s greedy, that little thing. It shouldn’t be alive. It doesn’t belong here.

Cap. A tall, strong girl who didn’t much like being the center of attention, but frowned whenever she felt excluded. Dirty shoelaces and snacking on dry, hard pasta and humming every song by her favorite singer, like she’d listened to one album on repeat for years and couldn’t get any of those tunes out of her head. Koda called her Captain, and she rolled her eyes at him for it. She had eyes for Nikhil, but he never knew. Quinn knew. They think she probably tried to protect him, to die nobly for him or something, and only doomed him to seeing her die before he got to.

As soon as the sunrise’s light became too bright and vivid to call ugly, Quinn turned their attention on other things. The moss in the creases between walls. The angle of the dumpster with its dented lid and peeled-off stickers. The pathetic little weed that weeps dew and soaks up sunlight, mocking them.

Noam was a critic, a skeptic. Always arguing. They’d get into heated debates with anyone who’d give them the time of day. Quinn often indulged them, and worked Noam up into a frenzy - that was when they were most interesting, spewing facts and opinions left and right. Quinn always suspiciously submitted to Noam’s arguments whenever Noam seemed to be on the verge of tears. Someone that passionate, that indignant? There’s no way they even considered standing down from a fight when their life was in danger. Noam wouldn’t have believed for a second that they deserved it, that it was pointless to fight.

But Two-Face? He would’ve surrendered in a heartbeat. He would’ve known it was pointless from the start. Probably tried to run. His problem wasn’t that he was a coward, or a traitor, although he sure wanted others to believe that. Quinn knows that he lost something. They could always see that grief in him, that deep hopelessness when faced with any challenge. Like he’d already lost the most important fight of his life, lost someone so valuable that there was no point being brave anymore. The others teased him for being a coward, for having no follow-through. Abandoning half-cooked food. Giving up on getting dressed and just lounging in the previous day’s outfit. Bailing on a plan to hang out. Quinn didn’t judge him when they found his body a minute’s walk from the others’ corpses. They know that he was brave in his own way, being in a group at all, trying to have friends. Giving himself a coward’s name so no one would think better of him. He wasn’t as weak as he tried to appear.

And Emmie…

The plant is crushed easily in Quinn’s fist. It’s wet, leaves sticking to their fingers, to their palm. It’s dead. They rip the pieces further, brush them off on their pants. The stupid living thing is gone. Nothing here is alive. Alleys are not places where things are found alive.

Emmie was a stupid girl. She braided hair and cuddled close to people and asked how their day was going. She made food and music instead of watching out for danger, instead of making sure there was enough gauze and food and booze for everyone if things went wrong. She gossiped and giggled and gave presents on what she declared to be each person’s birthday. As if that was what a birthday was, a random day you’d get soap or a bag of chips or a single sneaker wrapped up with ribbon, two or three times a year. She was too stupid to live for long. She didn’t belong in this world. Her cheek-kisses and back rubs and soft concerned questions were a waste of time and energy to receive. She was weak, so she must have been easy to kill. Her braids must have been easy to grab. Her hands were soft from crafts and hand-holding, not calloused, that’s why they were scraped when Quinn found her. She chose to wear sandals with thin white straps instead of running shoes, that’s why she couldn’t run away, that’s why her legs were all bloody from falling hard, maybe being dragged. She was kind enough that she probably begged for the others not to be hurt, probably tried to scream for help, and that’s why her throat was slit. It was so obvious, seeing her body, that it was her fault.

Trembling hands find and collect each shred of the weed’s leaves from the ground. Cupped in one palm, they look so small, all the fragile pieces. The plant can’t be put together again and planted back in the little crack in the ground that must have held just enough soil to sustain a life. It didn’t know what was coming. It had only been collecting dew, drinking up the sun that had finally come after a long, chilly night. It didn’t have any way to fight off the hand that tore it up and ripped it apart like it was made of tissue paper.

The sun has risen. Quinn pushes themself to their feet, allowing the shredded corpse of the plant to fall and scatter again. Nothing here can be fixed. The haunted alley is not a place for the living.

#whump #drabble #mine #filled prompts #quinn #grief #death tw #gore #past trauma #wildfaewhump #this one was fun to write! a little dive into quinn's head #they have feeeeelings #wildfaeworld

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messedupessy · 4 years

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HERE HE IS ANGRY FIRE DAD YE BOI (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ❤

Gotta say, I finished Vio here way faster than I thought I would, which is really, really nice xD I actually finished him yesterday pft, but anyway, yes here he is, Vio my Underfell Grillby at last!

I am very happy with how he turned out, I am so not good at drawing flames like at all but I think they turned out pretty good anyway, the whole green at the tops is inspired by the original creator of UF’s version, where he is usually green with purple at the top, which I liked af but wanted to do it opposite instead. Which turned out pretty snazzy xD I did attempt to give him like some flames on his arms as they like flare up since he pissed, but I couldn’t get it right and just erased it instead. I am very happy with his face tho, and he turned out so good overall, only thing I am a bit iffy about is the shoes, since I drew them badly, but they will do pft

And now for some facts about this angry fire dad, under a cut yes yes, with a bonus pic at the end because I did a funny thing which I gotta share xD warning for some violence, character death and so on down below, it got a bit long but idgaf, enjoy!

Vio, full name Violet, he is a pretty cranky and easily pissed off fire dad, can be pretty flirty and charming at times when he wants to be, alongside been a little bit greedy. But he is mostly just kinda pissy and is a monster who most monsters know not to piss off if they want to keep visiting his bar. Because no one fucks with him or fucks up his bar, so no fighting or destroying shit or you are out, he will make you suffer if you break his rules.

The only exception to this rule is Red, which pisses Vio off to no end, as he hates Red’s fucking bullshit.

The bar he runs goes by the name of Vio’s, used to be called Grillby’s but he changed it, as it didn’t fit the aesthetic he got going for it. Which is a pretty seedy bar with a not so secret gambling pool, lot’s of poker and gambling going on there, alongside some hella nightclub vibes.

He like original Grillby is a pretty quiet monster, but compared to Grillby so is Vio a total chatterbox. He talks way more in comparison, but is still quiet when compared to most people, usually spends his time standing behind his bar counter, watching and listening in on everything going on around him. If his customers starts to get too rowdy, his flames will turn more and more green in a kind of warning, letting them know without him saying a word that if they don’t cut their shit out, there will be hell to pay.

Vio works also as an information broker, since his bar gets so much business so do he get to hear and find out about lots, and lots of things. Which he sells to the highest bidder as long as he knows it won’t come back and bite him in the ass, and yet he mostly sells his information to Red as he is one of Red’s best informants, even though Red pisses him off fucking daily.

He was once married to a fellow elemental, a water one by the name of Current, they constantly argued and got on each other's nerves, but that’s how their relationship worked as they still cared about one another a whole lot, so far they even went and got properly soulbonded. Something that is so not common anymore amongst monsters, not only is it a great liability in a world such as Underfell, it will also seriously fuck up the surviving partner if the other end up dusting.

Which Current did, he was one hotheaded guy who constantly ended up in fights and brawls, and one of them ended up with him dusting. The monsters who succeeded in killing him ended up at the extremely furious and revengeful hands of Vio, who did not give them any kind of mercy for what they did.

Vio has then been wearing the collar, that belonged to Current ever since. Other monsters are afraid to even bring Current up since Vio got set off whenever he heard anyone just saying his name right after he died, which is how Ashden, UF Fuku, knows pretty much nothing about her other parent.

As Vio and Current are her parents, they got her not too long before Current kicked the bucket, and so she has grown up without knowing who her other parent is like at all since no one has told her about him ever.

This is one of the main reasons why Vio and Ashden so often constantly fights, because she wants to know about Current but Vio refuses, since it still even after many years, hurts too much to even think about. There is a reason why he got a minor drinking problem and sleep around, he one depressed bitch stuck in his grief still.

Anyway, Vio and Red got a deal, which is that Vio gives Red info and stuff about anything and everything, while Red pays him but he also keeps an eye on Ashden, since Vio can’t do it himself and he is protective of her as fuck.

He and Red also got a kind of weird relationship, of been friends but yet Vio often completely despise Red, but they still like friends in a weird way and also are fuck buddies. They constantly give each other shit and bicker, alongside some flirting time to time, but most often Vio is just pissed at Red since Red got a habit of scaring away his customers, and that he hogs a chair at the bar which no one else dares to sit at which pisses Vio off.

And that is all I got, which ended up been way more than I had planned to tell but oh well xD now enjoy this bonus of me fooling around when I was drawing this boys scars pft

#undertale #underfell #underfell grillby #MessedUpEssy #grillby #Essy's Art #Essy's Undertale Art #Essy's Undertale Headcanons #Vio is also like very pissed at his dead husband #like how dare he go and die on him just like that #just because current was too hotheaded for his own frikking good pft #anyway ahhh i had wanted to post this yesterday #but i was stuck on what to write under the cut #so waited and then ended up writing a whole page with stuff today instead #so worth it pft #still it feels rly good to finally have drawn this angry fire dad #i so rarely ever draw them grillby boys bc fire is hard but it sure was nice to finally do it #i am now holding a poll over on twitter which character to draw a ref of next #so it will be fun to see whose next yes #his shoes will be bothering me for ages but oh well they will do ye #and yes im posting this early af idgaf #Essy OC Refs

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carameiisse · 3 years

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final night alive

꒰🖇꒱ iwaoi // long fic

chapter 1

Day 1096. The cycle is tiring.

Iwaizumi spent half the 24 hours looking up at the tiny window separating him and the chemicals that habit the air outside. It has been 3 years— 3 years after the Earth lost half of the resources it once had a bountiful of,

now insufficient for all it's inhabitants to survive. 3 years after humans started to fend for themselves whilst people paid the repercussions and suffered the retribution with their livelihoods.

Selfish needs, wants and desires present in human behaviour.

Negligence, ignorance and Greed is what led them towards a place the religions preached as Hell.

Hell where you question your very own contribution to the falling of the planet you once called Home.

Home you destroyed you confided comfort in.

But that's gone.

1905 days since Humanity has taken its turn for the worst. The government stood idly by as the people in rage led wars, protests and riots as they proudly held their stance showering blood of their own neighbors. One by one, as they started to lose any remaining sanity and marched straight towards their death. Either in a pit of desperation to live through tomorrow, or not seeing the point in existing in a blank space.

A naked, ravaged, landscape where dying trees and living corpses might be the only fossils of any living existence. Fossils, that are in the future, will have as your child's generation and the next will cease to exist.

"The sun is high today." Iwaizumi mumbles to himself as the ray of light from the tiny piece of glass in the ceiling of the iron dome pierces through. "Might be a bit chilly tonight, but you're doing well aren't you?" Iwaizumi's body tenses in a subconscious effort to block out the memory burnt to his mind. The car accident.

"It's not my fault. If you were awake, you'd insist it wasn't." He covered his eyes, his face muscles struggling to physically convey anything. Iwaizumi has driven himself so numb. His eyes the ocean of the Earth in its state.

deep,

empty,

and dead.

Oikawa has been in a coma for 7 years. Before all the hospitals ran out of supplies and no longer functioned for its people, he's been sleeping for a long time.

But not once has he ever actually felt the warmth of his lover's arm around his body.

The roses planted in Iwaizumi's face, as those flowers blossomed every time he imagined the memories they shared.

No more left of their families, their relatives nor their friends. The two of them holding onto each other like a tight rope bound to be cut by a gust of sharp wind passing by.

A faint reminder their tie will continue to thin and by time, it'll be severed on it's own.

As much as Iwaizumi took care of his well-being to continue looking after his resting partner, his health slowly and painfully started to decline. Whether it was because of the toxic air that's barely made up of oxygen outside, or the lack of nutrients keeping his organs barely functioning. The pain he bears in his chest not only includes the immense amount of heartbreak and grief he's in, he endured to see Oikawa open his eyes once.

Just once must he see the brown eyes that never failed to give him a punch in the stomach. The brown eyes gleaming in the sun. The brown eyes he'd missed that's been locked to his lids the last 7 years.

It's excruciating.

"It hurts." He breathes.

Iwaizumi curves his lips and curls his knees to his chest. He can't cry. His eyes burn.

Nothing's pouring out.

And nothing will.

Day 1097. Maybe I'll witness a miracle today. Maybe, he'd finally wake up. the Gods might have mercy.

Iwaizumi stares. He holds, he clenches, he kisses the hands of his still, silent boyfriend. He daydreams the moment he opens his eyes. Will he remember him? They've gone this far, and for Oikawa, Iwaizumi might as well breathe his last breath beside him.

"All for you." His voice was hoarse.

"We'll both be fine. So wake up." He lies. The government had been successfully overthrown. There's no hope. Only soon until the Missiles and bombs humans made with their own hands and ambitions for superiority, will be the same weapons to drive Humans extinct. Ignite the revolution.

Enough explosions and deaths to cover and erase their own existence. own mistakes.

Their last.

"If you.. you wake up." He clings onto false hope. Iwaizumi doesn't want to be in denial. He figured it'll be alright to be greedy once. A little selfish, he kneels. He pleaded in silence. Must there be an almighty being atop of the chaos caused by his own creations, should they listen to a weak, pitiful man his wishes.

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.

Iwaizumi begged. He cried, his emotions stirred as the thought of dying without the words "I love you" trailing out of his mouth and his lover hearing terrorized him. He's living in a nightmare and the closest being to his unreachable happiness, bedridden and unconscious.

"Must the earth burn to the ground, let him be the one I lie with." His eyes burn, his jaw clenched. A heavy chest and a guilty soul. He walked and stood in misery.

Misery where hundreds and thousands of voices torment you days on end.

Your fault,

It's your fault.

No. It's not.

An endless repeat, a play of words driving you insane as you struggle to stand upright.

Misery where the sun shines and the moon sets, a cycle. A cycle as the stars interchange and everyday is judgment day, and everyday you are convicted of your own crimes. Everyday when you listen to the sound of a mallet slamming to the desk, the person in charge repeats your mistakes as they sentence you to an eternity of hell.

And until your self-doubt is impressed and barely satisfied, must you force yourself to "heal", going through it once again, a replay of scenes in your head, as you chant and believe "Time heals scars."

But it's not that easy. Words are coy. They are merely expressions of our true selves, no less than little white lies.

This wasn't easy for Iwaizumi. He had no one to seek comfort in. So used to having his shell only disturbed by the only other person in his isolated iron dome, yet that person hasn't woken up in 7 years.

3 years after the great judgment. Where humans completely turned into monsters. No mercy, no ounce of humanity left. Have they set aside their foolishness, have they been a little bit more considerate, would they not be at war with their own kind?

Human nature knows no bounds. Just because you believe in your self-control that you wouldn't do anything so rash and so inhumane, doesn't mean anyone else wouldn't do it. As the burden continues to get heavier on their shoulders, unspeakable acts and evil desires will ignite within themselves. That is their true form.

Had their uncontrollable greed for power and authority been kept in check, could this have never happened? Iwaizumi wondered about how the mistakes of those in higher powers cost them their futures. His future with Oikawa. The emotion gushed in all at once and it seems he wouldn't be sleeping peacefully tonight.

He barely slept. Iwaizumi did. Maybe at the thought of Oikawa waking up in an unfamiliar place and no one to cater him, he might fall asleep again. Those empty dreams Oikawa wrote before he went into deep sleep. If he had seen the way Iwa had longed for him and over the course of the coma did Iwaizumi keep all the materials for his boyfriend's bucket list. He regretted it. He really did. He was too adamant about how he felt and always let Oikawa take the lead. He just wanted to do whatever the maroon-haired setter wished, leading Oikawa to misunderstand if Iwaizumi is up to putting in effort in their relationship.

Communication. They failed to communicate with each other. But time passed. What's over is over and what fate has threaded for the both of them in the end is absolute.

Day 1098. I'm sorry.

There's no birds chirping outside. Long since the ozone layer is no longer useful for its purpose. The leaves are dry, the animals are starved and humans stayed dead, or lived as a monster.

"Hm.." A pained groan woke Iwaizumi's ears. He's been holding Oikawa's hand since yesterday daydreaming. He didn't realize he actually slept. Even after waking up in an uncomfortable position, he thanks his sleeping boyfriend with the back of his hand held to his forehead. He got up and tended to his sore muscles after sleeping while sitting down.

He turned around, and for the first time in the past 3 years, a tear swam across Iwaizumi's disheveled face. The longing to intertwine his being with Oikawa's took turns as he finally opened his eyes. His eyes fluttered in the unfamiliar light.

Iwaizumi's eyes knew no color. No life, nor sense of direction. It stayed clear, restless and hollow. But Oikawa woke up. His body held no weight as his joints flail as if it's made of air. His tears split across his face like a river flowing down a waterfall. His mind was tangled, unsure, relieved and confused. All those moments he was unsure of their twisted, unfair fate were tumbled over as joy brimmed his entire body. Iwaizumi's throat tightened as he blinked and he blinked and he blinked.

Is this real? He swallowed as his still-beating heart struggled to gasp for air. He just can't bring himself to. How could he? The man he had been longing for years and years on end, finally fluttered his eyes.

He's alive. Iwaizumi's knees held strong to keep his paralyzed body from falling backwards.

Oikawa squints at the strange, unsteady man restless in front of him.

He wanted to speak. To talk, to ask.

But nothing came out than an audible exhale of air.

Iwaizumi stood still. The sound of the bed creaking as Oikawa attempted to sit up shook the rigid, tense man to crumble in front of him. On his knees, mumbling to himself. He took his time as he slowly and carefully carried his used to be flimsy body, now carrying the weight of two lives in his shoulder.

"I'm.. I'm sorry." His breath hitches. "Are you feeling alright?" Looming over the frail, vulnerable state Oikawa was in. He couldn't help but look at him with loving eyes after missing his presence, his touch, and his voice all these years.

All these years he endured alone.

Oikawa widened his mouth once again. Words like "Who are you? Where am I? Who am I?" remained vacant in his voice folds. He could only find himself distressed, not fully yet capable to express curiosity to the stranger in front of him. He leans back swiftly in effort to make sense of the environment he woke up in.

Iwaizumi's shaking. His body frozen, as if untouched, deprived of warmth, the barrier solid ice. You wander into his eyes and fall into the abyss. The oblivion. His stare fixed and dull, the color of his eyes night dark, no traces of golden sunsets.

"Are you alright?" He approached Oikawa cautiously. "Do you.. Do you remember me? us?" Iwaizumi's hand clutches over his heart, a desperate attempt to hush his fast-paced beating heart.

Oikawa shook his head.

"Alright, I'll.. I'll give you something to drink." Iwaizumi slowly tiptoes away, imprinting Oikawa's picture in his mind.

Iwaizumi couldn't possibly contain his excitement. Even in the midst of earth meeting its doom, staying side to side by his lover eases his fear a little.

"Day 1." He grins as he pours the boiled water in a tin cup. Sliding the curtain, Iwaizumi loosened his grip. He ran, he stumbled, crumpling like a ragdoll. Slamming on small drawers, tables, and clothes. He's frantic, unprepared at the sight of the alive Oikawa earlier. The soft sound of thud as his knees met the coldness of the cement floor.

"Shit. Shit. Fuck. Oikawa." He couldn't breathe, as he took bites of oxygen, timing the seconds to inhale for air. His heart pounding, memories flashing. Rainstorms occupying his water lines, eyebrows furrowed, confused, angry.

Not again.

Restart?

#hq iwaoi #hq anime #hq iwaizumi #oikawa torū #oikawa angst #iwaizumi angst #as the world caves in #dystopiean #dystopia #haikyuu!!#iwaoi brainrot #iwaoi fic

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romeulusroy · 4 years

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Novelty Pt. Two (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Tommy, Shelby family mention

Word Count: 1,606

Requested: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @parochialism

Inspired By: @parochialism

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt

A/N: First, if you're going to give anyone credit for the plot, we should all thank @parochialism :) Thank you my love!!! Your idea was so lovely and I felt so stuck about what to write, your reply was so incredibly helpful and I couldn't have written part two without you!!! Second, I really like writing parts to fics! I'm not sure I'd be able to write more than just two parts, but I thought the same when it came to this! Third, this is the longest thing I've ever written and idk, I'm really proud!!! I'm proud of how it turned out! I haven't been able to say that in a while, but I think I needed a lil break from mini-fics to get back into the swing of writing. Feedback is always appreciated my loves! 💜💖💜

~ FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. ~

PART ONE.

A curse, the greatest loss of them all, to see young love die.

He could have burned them, used them as an ash tray, put his cigarettes out on them one by one until it held the whole pack. He could have thrown them away, tearing them apart, shredded to pieces. But he didn't. Instead the divorce papers sat there, lifeless, collecting dust in the corner of his desk. Other papers, books, things of more importance stacked on top. Neglected, just like your marriage. Didn't matter, not really, it sent the same message all the same, no use in trying. No one could divorce a Shelby. Tommy never would have agreed despite the lack of love he felt for you, and no lawyer dare let you set foot through their doors with a last name that dangerous. If you'd known all those years ago this is where you'd be, sitting, waiting for him to react through the thin walls of the office, bracing for the worst, you never would have said yes on those fucking tracks.

He knew how you felt regardless of those papers. It was clear the space between you was growing, opening a pit you wished, you hoped, you'd fall into one day. Two lives lived separate, coming together only when neccesary. Grew up, apart, wanting different things. A man of power, he cared more about the toy soldiers he sent out, doing his dirty work for him, than the spouse he left at home each night, rotting alone in the bed they used to share. Greedy, angry, hungry. This was his life, his business, you were nothing more than a tiny, mangled piece of the puzzle. Meant to speak when spoken to, appear on his arm with a smile and only good things to say, put on a good act when there were eyes watching. When there weren't, he didn't give your actions much thought. You weren't even sure you existed out of his line of sight.

You came to family meetings. Not to nod and smile, the family knew just how you felt about one another, but because you had every right to be there, same as the rest. Your feelings for Thomas didn't bleed out towards the rest. Greeting Pol, Arthur, John, Michael, even Finn with a kiss on the cheek, a kind word, a lighthearted quip towards their brother or cousin. Sweet as ever, complimenting you quietly. You were their small reminder of the world before the war. A lifelong friend before an in-law. Someone to cherish, to protect. Regardless of what your husband felt for you, they still loved you. You sat with them instead, an us vs. them. None of you afraid to call him out, to stare in those deep blues and question him, his authority. He needed that, to be knocked down, challenged, learn that the world would not bow or smile per his beck and call.

You didn't work for him, or any of them. This wasn't your place. He wanted to be the provider, for you to wait long hours for him and him only, but you wanted your own freedom, your own worth. Found a shop. Used your maiden name. They all knew, but no one dare say a thing. Hired you on the spot, your boys visiting often per his request. Checking up, making sure you behaved. It wasn't much, but it was yours, and that was enough. Quiet, without him. A place of escape, to fill your own time with. No guns, no bodies, it was safe here. He knew his place, not to set foot. You had your own territory. This was yours. Untouchable, sacred. Tommy still knew his place sometimes.

You thought about leaving, disappearing, packing your bags, showing him you meant what you said. And you had, a few times, caught yourself on a train ride to nowhere, but you always came back, wasting the day, frustrated with yourself. You weren't only leaving him. They were your family, too. Your nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters, your friends, people you cared for and who cared for you. It was your home, too. The same place you grew up, a place you never really wanted to stay too far from. It was yours, not just his. He'd find you unpacking, shoving the suitcase in the closet, knowing what you did today, why his men couldn't find you working. There were a lot of things you gave up becoming a Shelby, a lot, but your home would not be one of them.

No one defied him the way you could. There was an art to it all, a dance. Though he wanted to be the one in power, you always lead. Slamming a bowl in the sink, a drawer shut, a door or simply stomping your foot. A reminder that you made noise, that you were to be heard. Rage pickled under your skin, burning your eyes, sharpening your words. Nothing touched him. He was just as ruthless, uncaring, slicing you to shreds with the things he said. You knew one another better than you knew yourselves. All his soft spots, weaknesses, fears, they sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to pull the trigger. Broken bits strewn across the floor, neither of you picking it up. It was no shock to the rest of the world that the Shelby's were unhappy. The way the help spoke, you weren't surprised. Left to pick up the pieces, the two of you unable to look at one another, word spread quick.

There were others. Other bodies he spent the night with, other smiles he charmed, buying drinks for, other hands he kissed. It was easy for him to find a companion. Strangers threw themselves at him, falling for the same eyes you did. Those lipstick stains were not your shade, nor were the scratches on his back by your nails. He gave up hiding it, and you gave up caring. You stopped looking for one another for that kind of comfort. He wasn't the only guilty one. Trips to London, where no one had to know who you are, where no one needed to. Dressed up just for them, needy for attention, a touch, to be wanted. No feelings, no names, no strings, just mindless, naked fun. You never let yourself get too close, too attached. They'd face a fate worse than death. The animosity meant you and them were safe. He never asked where you were, what you were up to, as long as you were home by Sunday.

Sometimes, though, those stars would shine through when he looked at you, the barriers crumbling, the walls falling. He'd carry to the car, bring you home when you drank too much at the bar. Tuck you in under the covers and apologize softly, sorry for the man he's become, sorry for the life you live, sorry you're stuck with him, this new him. After particularly bad fights he'd sigh, convinced you were asleep, apologizing for the things he said, wishing he'd been able to take them back. He apologized a lot when he thought no one was listening, when he could drop this angry facade, revealing just how tired he truly was. Laying beside you, over the blankets, his tie loose, jacket long gone, he'd apologize for all the things wrong in the world, wrong in the marriage. Apologize for taking your youth, stealing so many years from you, for never giving you the family you always wanted, the husband you always wanted, the one he promised to be in a past life. Sorry for this, and that, and everything else. . . .

It didn't fix anything, it didn't make you love him the way you used to, it didn't make him the man he used to be. There were still fights, nights you spent floors away from one another, in beds that weren't your own, in booths trying to drink your problems into oblivion when you hated the very sight of him. It didn't prevent you from staying with Esme and John, taking the couch at Pols, even disappearing back home with your side when that house felt too haunted. It didn't fix a goddamn thing, and it never could, but it humanized him, a corpse he'd been carrying around since he stepped off that train.

It wasn't hate. You never hated him as a person. You hated the words he said, and the things he did, but there would always be peaks and hints of the boy you first fell for. You were mourning in your own ways, bitter, crying for a loss no one else could see or feel. For the people you always pictured yourselves being, the houses you'd have, the life you'd live, the children you always wanted to have. Never would you raise on this environment, not now. Mourning your lost youth, your own broken heart. It was a marriage of grief, a graveyard of wedding vows, made up of dead promises. This was never like anything the two of you expected, and that was something to grieve for. It wasn't easy watching happy engagements turn into a lifetime of unconditional love. It wasn't fair. Faces younger than your own had been still happy to this day, their hair white,terth gone. Til death would they part, you guessed. . . .

When your request was denied by the very man who promised to do whatever it was to make you happy was the day you realized, no matter what you did in this lifetime, your own grave would still have the name Shelby carved into it.

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

Before You Go - Roxas x Fem!Reader

So...I’m not done with FF7r yet, but I recently watched the Masked Singer and the Turtle’s finale song really got me thinking so...Tada!

~~~~~

“Wait! Please!” I beg, reaching for his jacket.

He turns on me. “Would you just get out of here?!” My hand recoils as if he’d struck me.

His name barely falls from my lips. “Roxas…”

“No! Whatever it is you have to say, I don’t want to hear it!” My heart breaks at the sight of tears in his eyes. “You think you can just spout some of your stupid motivational words and everything will be fixed! But you can’t! Whatever you have to say it’s just a lie! I’m not important or special; I’m not even my own person!”

“That’s not true!” My knees feel weak but I just have to keep myself together, for him.

“I AM LITERALLY A NOBODY!” he screams. He’s always been a somewhat volatile person, quick to anger, fighting against what he’s told, greedy in his emotions—loving without knowing limits. But this mix of rage and remorse has consumed him. “I’m the shell of another person! Someone without a heart! I’m not supposed to exist! So you’ve just been wasting your time with me!”

“No!”

“Yes!” He grips at handfuls of his hair. “And what does that say about you?! Loving the broken and hopeless?! Is that how you make yourself feel better about how pathetic your life is?!” The words are caught in my throat, the desperate argument I want to yell at him. “How can you stand it?! How can you sit there and pretend like nothing is wrong?! What deranged magic do you use to ignore it all?! Or are you just so gullible and naïve that you think that everything is actually okay?! How can you be that stupid?!”

I grit my teeth, reminding myself that he’s just worked up; still, my hand grips at the fabric over my aching heart. It’s all I can do!

“Well I’m not like that! Nothing is okay and it’s never going to be! People like me don’t get to be happy! And I’m sick of you trying to pretend that’s not true!”

My voice fails, breath coming out in muted sobs.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” he mutters darkly. No matter what he says, there’s sorrow and pain behind it all. I don’t know who this hurts more, me or him, but I’m afraid of what will happen if he leaves now.

His mouth opens but closes again as he changes his mind. Instead, Roxas leaves it there and turns towards the black portal, leaving me behind in a complete mess.

The grief becomes too much to bear. My knees meet the cold ground while uncontrolled sobs pour from my mouth. It doesn’t take long before a coughing fit overwhelms me, shredding my throat and spurring the pain in my chest. Flecks of crimson mottle the ground among the already fallen tears. This isn’t how I wanted to leave things, but I’ll never get the chance to fix it and that’s what hurts the most.

I’m sorry.

~~~~~

Roxas POV

When the doors to the gummi ship open, I give a hasty goodbye to Riku and bolt off towards the town. Nothing’s changed, it’s just as I remember. Even if most of what I remember was of a replica, she wasn’t. She had been real, someone I had met before I had been taken, before I gave up on existing.

I can hear my friends calling after me but I don’t stop; that is until I slam into someone hard enough to throw us both to the ground.

“Ow…Sorry,” I grumble, rubbing my head.

“Yeah, you-Roxas?!”

My gaze snaps to the boy, meeting his brown eyes with the same shock. I’ve seen him before, but only in the fake world. “Hayner?!”

“Roxas?!”

“No way! Roxas!”

Two others join us and I feel this strange mix of relief and confusion swelling in my chest. “Pence? Olette?”

Pence takes my arm and hoists me to my feet. “You’re alright!”

I’m afraid to ask, afraid to break whatever illusion of fate that gave me this moment of rightness. But I can’t help it. “You know who I am?”

“Of course,” Olette says with the same smile. “We’re friends.” Her words strike my heart and I could just cry.

Hayner clears some things up. “Maybe not the friends you knew in your Twilight Town, but friends are friends, right?”

There we go; they know about me and they’re not the fake friends I had made. Still, they want to be friends and maybe I can do that.

“Roxas!” Lea and Xion catch up. Lea scolds, “You can’t just run off like that.”

“Are you okay?” Xion asks.

Olette offers a hand to Xion. “Are you Roxas’s friends? I’m Olette.”

Amidst the meeting of old and new friends, I suddenly remember my original mission. “Wait!” I grab Pence. “I’m looking for someone! Like this tall! Goes by the name _____!” I quickly give a rundown of what she looks like while trying not to shake the answers from him.

“Wait, are you talking about the Lady of Sunset Hill?” Olette interjects.

“Huh?”

“Oh yeah.” Hayner folds his arms. “That girl who was at Sunset Hill all the time.”

Olette goes on, “They say she was there waiting for her true love to return. Everyone saw her there but she was just some strange girl; it’s not like it really mattered to anyone. Until she disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” I whisper. Inside, it feels like my heart is afraid to beat, like another moment forward will drag me closer to whatever bad news they’re harboring.

Pence pries my hands from his shirt. “One day she just disappeared, leaving a note where she used to stand.”

I take off a second time. I’m terrified. After everything I said, there’s no way she can be gone. She can’t be; I have to talk to her again. I know that note is for me, that I’m the person she was waiting for, despite how dreadful I’d been to her; so there has to be something in that note to tell me where she’s at. She has to be okay—I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s not.

My throat is threatening to close up, agitating my anxiety but I don’t stop until I get to Sunset Hill. I’m immediately blinded by the sun peeking over the edge of the horizon, but I can just make out the shape of the girl. Filled with relief, I rush forward.

And then I stop. It’s not a girl standing there, but a statue. At first glance, it could easily be mistaken as a being built in her image, but I can tell that the sculptor didn’t know her. They failed to mimic the lines of her gentle hands or the true softness of her face. The length of her hair isn’t quite right and they even omitted the scar across her arm. What they did capture is an intense emotion of heartache, and I’m sure that even that can’t compare to what it really was.

The statue blurs and I have to drag my sleeve across my face to clear it up. Beside the statue, is a plaque with the words “The Lady of Sunset Hill” engraved across the top. Below the description is a piece of paper, pressed flat and displayed beneath a plate of glass.

~~~

You were right.

Nothing was okay. Life can be so cruel and so often it can feel like there’s nothing left for us to hold onto. I had no one, I was never going to make my dreams come true, there was no future ahead of me, my body was failing. My life was miserable and I hated every moment of it. Until I met you.

I don’t know why. You were awkward and short-tempered, but we got along anyway. There were times I wondered how we even came to be lovers, but you made me feel like nothing else mattered than my time with you. And that’s why I never wanted you to see the dark side of me.

So no, I was never okay. And maybe I was fool for pretending I was. But I don’t regret it. None of it. Because what was pretend became real with you. I’d never been happier than those moments I shared with you; all the times I got to see your smile, the way your eyes lit up, the smirk of your confidence, or even that adorable blush. You can argue all you want, but you really existed. You were somebody no matter what anyone else said. You had a heart because you showed it to me.

I hope you found your answers. I hope that you came to accept yourself just as I did. I hope you’re happy.

I’m going to miss the stupid jokes over ice cream and the comfortable silences watching the sunset. I’m going to miss you. I love you.

Sorry.

~~~

Some of the words have been distorted and faded by what I can only assume are tear stains, but her message comes through all the same: she’s gone.

Knees in the dirt, I swallow the wail threatening to break out. The grief is overwhelming; beating my fists against the ground alleviates nothing but I don’t know what else I can do.

“Roxas!”

“Hey man, are you okay?”

My jaw clenches, trying to hold myself together beneath my friends’ hands. If I open my mouth, everything will come out.

“Is this her?” Xion asks softly. “She was so pretty.”

Olette tells a story I didn’t want to hear. “A couple months ago, some people found her here unconscious. They rushed her away but it was too late.” A tremor ripples through me. “The sculptor was one of those people and picked up the letter she dropped. He was so touched by her love and sorrow he built for her.”

It’s Lea who finally understands. “Oh no…She was the girl…She was the one you…”

And that’s where I fall apart. I’m no stranger to self-loathing and I’ve had my fair share of misery, but never to this extreme. She’s gone and I’m never going to see her again. She’s gone and the last thing I did was yell at her. I said all those disgraceful things and berated her when she was just trying her best for me. I treated her so terribly because I was in denial while she was pushing aside her own problems for me. I shoved her down in anger while she was fighting a losing battle. Sure, my problem was traumatic too, but I’m still standing—she’s not.

I’m never going to hear her laugh again or see that smile that made my insides feel like mush. I’m never going feel her warm hand in mine again. Her fingers will never play with my hair again and we won’t waste time staring at the sunset anymore. We can’t take any more ridiculous photos that make us smile until our cheeks hurt. She won’t be there to comfort me or cheer me on. I’ll never get to kiss her again, to feel her soft lips that always made me crave more. There are so many things I wanted to tell her but now I can’t. I’ll never get a chance to tell her I’m sorry, that I take back everything I said and beg for her forgiveness.

And I’ll never get the chance to tell her I love her.

If only I had known you had a storm to weather.

#roxas #kh roxas #roxas x reader #kh3 roxas #kh3 #fem!reader

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