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angstybabysblog · 1 year

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Kakashi x reader smut: Dry Spell

Or below!

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It’s lonely at the top.

Or, so they say.

In Kakashi’s life, this was one of the only things he could continually count on. The death of his mother, his father, and all members of his team were tough burdens to bear. But this isn’t about that. This is about how Kakashi had read every Icha Icha book Jiraiya had put out (read was more like worn down until you could barely read the pages) and was now acutely aware of the longest dry spell of his life. Even a life riddled with disaster still had its moments- Kakashi wasn’t a virgin but his lack of companionship had gone on so long that he was beginning to believe it was growing back.

So Kakashi decided he wanted to do something about it, but lacked any real game. Asking one of his friends (especially Guy) seemed like a bad idea as they definitely would make fun of him. It bothered Kakashi that even though he was one of the top shinobi in the village, all his friends (especially Guy, girls really liked the bowl cut he guessed?) were infinitely more popular with women than he was.

Maybe it was the history in Anbu?

The fact he was Team 7’s leader?

The Sharingan?

Okay, definitely not the Sharingan, that used to work really well for him.

Well, up until Itachi Uchiha decided to slaughter his game by making it super unpopular.

Anyway, cut to Kakashi sitting inside a bar, listening to Guy talk about the girl he was seeing- a girl so undeniably out of his league that Kakashi wanted to go home and cry.

“Kakashi…Kakashi? Are you even listening? I am telling you this girl had the biggest ti-”

“Yes, Guy, I heard you the first time. Really incredible for you, truly. I’m sure she was really flowing with the power of youth…or…whatever.” Kakashi downed the rest of his drink and motioned to the bartender for another before looking over at Guy who seemed to be looking behind him.

Kakashi turned around slowly, worried it was someone like Genma coming to talk about how many girls he’d seen that week too, but he was surprised to be faced by a girl.

A really pretty girl.

Fuck it, a really hot girl.

Wait, no, an actually really hot girl.

“Hi, are you okay? You look a little like you’re overheating. Do you need some water?” Guy asked, much to Kakashi’s dismay.

You laughed, pushing your hair a little more out of your face and wondering why you had even walked over here to begin with.

Right! Training!

“Hi, I actually came over here to talk with Mr.Kakashi, I just recently became a jonin and I’ve been asked to be in the Anbu as well. But I don’t wanna bother either of you, please excuse my intrusion! I think I’ve just had a little too much sake. Have a goodnight!” You blushed as you slurred your words a bit, nodding to them both before turning to walk away.

“Wait! You didn’t intrude, I was actually just leaving so I could walk you home and tell you about the Anbu if you’d like?” Kakashi nearly bolted out of his seat, leaving Guy to shoot him a knowing look and stifle a laugh.

You beamed.

“Oh! Okay, that would be great. I promise on a normal day I’m waaaay more coherent than this. Do you mind if I hold onto your arm for balance? I just don’t want to fall on you and embarrass myself completely.” You replied, way more confident than normal.

No wonder this shit is called liquid courage.

Kakashi blushed and nodded, extending his bent arm for you to grab onto, turning to wave goodbye to Guy who was giving him a way-too-noticeable thumbs up and a wink as he exited the bar.

The air was cold, a nice change from the stuffy bar.

However, the dark of the bar had hidden most of your outfit, which was leaving significantly less to the imagination than Kakashi expected.

The cold air was leaving even less to the imagination with your chest.

Kakashi felt his whole face heat up, hoping the blush wasn’t as noticeable as it felt.

'This mask is saving my life' he thought

“So the Anbu, quite an honor to be picked. You must be a wonderful kunoichi, I’m surprised I haven’t met you before, what did you say your name was?”

You smiled at him, sharing your name.

“I haven’t gotten a cool nickname yet like Blue Beast or the Copy Ninja, which is why no one’s really heard of me. I was asked by Lady Tsunade to join the Anbu and I know better than to say no, I guess I’m just nervous.” You said quietly, wishing you had something less cowardly to say.

'Wait, I wonder if he has any Anbu stuff from his old days? Maybe that’s a good enough excuse to see where he lives.' You thought.

Yes, you had been asked to join the Anbu and definitely wanted Kakashi’s opinions and advice on the matter, but you thought you’d ask that a few months into joining- enough time to gather up the courage to talk to him. If it wasn’t for your friend’s birthday and copious amounts of alcohol, you’d be at home wondering if he even knew your name.

Sure he was intimidating, but it was really his looks that made you nervous to talk to him.

The man was built like a god, was mysterious, and crazy powerful. In addition to the fact that he was a great leader of his team of genin.

Was trying to bed him such a bad idea?

“Soooo do you have any cool Anbu stuff at your house? Like your old mask or something?” You asked, hoping it didn’t seem too ridiculous.

Kakashi stiffened a little before replying, leaving you to wonder if you had already messed everything up.

“Actually, yes- I have a couple of things I could show you if you’d like? I live a different way than the one we’re going, though, so we’ll have to walk a bit more if that’s alright.”

Kakashi was mentally cheering himself for sounding so cool.

“I don’t mind, I think the walk is helping me sober up a bit.” You laughed.

After about a half hour of walking and talking about Kakashi’s time in the Anbu, you reached his home.

The nervousness was palpable as you walked in, taking in the view of the space as Kakashi disappeared into another area of the house.

Returning only moments later, he carried with him an unmarked box and set it down on the floor before you, taking a seat next to it.

“This is all the stuff I have from being part of the Anbu- I have my old mask, some gear, a few notebooks, and some stuff I collected along the way.” He said, reaching in to pull out little trinkets you recognized from other villages.

Against everyone’s better judgment, Kakashi thought it best to bring out more sake- going through his old Anbu stuff would be better with a little more alcohol in him. You agreed and the two of you drank and talked as he told more stories.

After an hour, the two of you were spilling more sake than drinking it, which led to some more raucous and slurred conversations.

“No way, the girl that’s sleeping with Guy is your friend?” Kakashi slurred.

You laughed. “Yeah and she says he's the best she’s ever had!” You laughed, causing Kakashi to laugh too.

“I hate him I can’t believe he’s fucking so much more than I am, life is so unfair.” Kakashi sighed, leaning a little too hard and nearly falling over into your lap.

“How are you not? That definitely seems like a you thing, all the kunoichi I know would love to be in your bed- you’ve got that whole mysterious loner thing going on.” You replied, chuckling as you leaned against the wall.

“Mysterious loner thing, eh? Wow, does that work on every girl in the village?” Kakashi asked, moving a bit closer to you.

Obviously aware of what was happening, you decided to tease him a bit.

“Nah, I lied, it only works on me.”

Kakashi picked you up in an instant, carrying you to his bedroom and placing you gently on his bed.

“I’m not sure why I’m even sharing this but I’m a little nervous, so I apologize if I’m a little shaky” Kakashi replied, wringing his hands somewhat nervously.

That’s okay, I don’t mind taking the lead

“You’re telling me Kakashi of the Sharingan gets nervous?” You bent forward, gripping the fabric of his pants to pull him towards you.

“Well I mean with stuff like this I-”

“Kakashi Hatake, one of the leaf’s most important jonin, gets nervous with a girl?” In a flash, you switched places with Kakashi, pushing him onto the bed behind you and taking off the rest of his pants.

Scooting up a little bit, Kakashi moved so you had room on his bed as well. He takes off his vest quickly, nervous with anticipation.

Arousal throbs within you as you drink in the image before you. Kakashi’s breathing is heavy, causing his chest to rise and fall more rapidly in his tight shirt, his mask still covering half his face. This would be beautiful regardless, but it's the small wet spot on his boxers and how painfully constricting they look that causes your mouth to water.

Looking him in the eye to ensure you’re doing what he wants, he offers a small nod as you remove his boxers, a sigh exiting his mouth.

To repeat, Kakashi was built like a god. His cock was no exception.

Using the pad of your index finger, you gently stroked the underside of it, watching him writhe under your touch.

“Is that sensitive?” You asked softly, nearly panting.

“Please I-” You interrupted him by wrapping your lips around the tip, massaging the underside with your tongue.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He breathed out, placing his hand in your hair and moving the pieces away from your face.

You took in more of him until you couldn’t, attempting to relax your throat to fit it all, but missing that last 10%. Kakashi was well-endowed, but in a way that was definitely going to feel incredible rather than painfully split you in half. Rubbing your legs at the thought, you sucked harder, moving your head up and down as he gripped your hair.

“God you look so pretty like this” Kakashi moaned out as you began to move faster. You moaned in response, men who talk like that are so hot.

Kakashi let out a breathy laugh. “Ah, you like stuff like that? I-” A moan ripped through him as you pulled back to suck harshly on the tip.

He could feel it build within him, an orgasm approaching faster than he had expected it to, but he also hadn’t expected you to have the mouth of a goddess when he brought you back to his place.

Wanting to warn you, he spoke. “Fuck I think I’m gonna-” You could feel his quads tighten, the pants and moans coming from him spurred you on as you attempted one last time to take him all in, successfully this round.

A loud groan tore through Kakashi as the best orgasm he’d had in years washed over him, hot liquid filling your mouth as you swallowed and sat up.

Kakashi looked at you with absolute bliss before frowning, realizing he was in just a shirt while you were still fully clothed.

“Take that off, those pants.” Kakashi ordered, watching intently as you got up from the bed and removed your pants, leaving you in a very tiny excuse for a shirt and panties.

“Take the shirt off and get on top of me.” He commanded.

“But you just-”

“I’m not using that, just do what I say please.” He replied, finally taking off his shirt with the mask, revealing his face.

“You’re really beautiful” You blurted, pulling your shirt over your head and sitting atop him.

Kakashi laughed lightly and traced the corners of your panties with his fingertips, completely avoiding the area you so wished he would touch.

“Thank you, that’s sweet of you. Now, I change my mind take these off too, you don’t need them and they’re too pretty to rip in half.” Kakashi replied, pulling at one side.

After some awkward maneuvering, you pulled them off and returned to your position, sitting carefully on his stomach.

In one quick motion, he had pulled you by your lower back up to his face, thighs touching his ears as you braced yourself against the headboard.

“Is this okay?” Kakashi asked, fingers fluttering around your inner thighs, tracing small patterns.

“Yes, please” You breathed out, anxious to begin.

“Also, some girls don’t do this and it makes all of it more difficult- I want you to fully sit on my face, if I need to hold you up I will, but don’t hold back on me, okay?” Kakashi patted your leg, motioning for you to relax on his face.

“O-okay, let me know if you need me to move or something” You were even more nervous as you placed yourself atop his mouth.

One swipe from his tongue and all nervous feelings vacated.

Apparently the man’s godhood extended beyond just his looks.

He would switch between lapping and sucking at your clit and nipping at your inner thighs, causing your heartbeat to become erratic as he swapped between small bits of pain and incredible pleasure.

Shifting your hips with his hands so that your clit pressed hard against his mouth, he snaked a hand underneath you to curl his middle finger into you, tongue continuing its brutal pace.

Kakashi might be disciplined in keeping his moans relatively quiet but you were not the same.

Each dip of his tongue and thrust of his fingers elicited a noise from you.

Kakashi was skilled, placing a second finger within you and curling, searching for a spot that-

“Fuck yes there baby right there oh please there” you nearly screamed as you could feel Kakashi smirk against you, pulling his mouth to the side to nip at your inner thighs.

“There, baby? That feel good?” Kakashi spoke before returning his assault on your clit with his tongue.

“Uh-huh” you moaned out, unable to concentrate on forming any other words.

He began to speed up the pace, fingers curling and plunging into you at a rate that had your toes curling. His tongue continued to tap at your clit, occasionally dipping down further to lick broad stripes against you. You’d become so delirious with pleasure that you began shifting your hips back and forth on his face.

The orgasm within you built quickly, moans becoming more high-pitched as you gripped the headboard with one hand and his hair with the other.

“Oh Kakashi please I’m so close I’m-” Your first (and hopefully not last) orgasm ripped through you as your legs shook around his head, but Kakashi did not change his pace. The overstimulation was nearly painful as you tried to pull back a little, Kakashi not freeing you from his grasp as he gripped your thigh.

“It’s too much baby I can’t I can’t” You cried, Kakashi not seeming to let up anytime soon.

Minutes later your second orgasm tore through you unexpectedly, leaving you to slump even further against Kakashi’s face as he finally stopped and lifted you gently, placing you next to him on his bed.

Kakashi smiled at you and kissed your cheek, wiping his face as he moved atop you.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, kissing your neck and nipping at your ear.

“I want you to fuck me” you breathed out, enjoying his touch on your neck.

“Mmm, is that right? I can do that.” Kakashi kissed you deeply, tongue touching yours as he ran his fingers over one of your nipples, causing you to sharply inhale.

Moving his kisses down your neck to your chest, Kakashi swirled his tongue around one nipple, sucking and nipping at it as he circled the other with his index finger. Switching between both, Kakashi continued for a few minutes before you began begging him to fuck you.

“Kakashi please I want you to fuck me, I don’t wanna wait” You whined, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

Kakashi sat up, aligning himself with your entrance and panting, looking to you for approval.

“Please” you whined.

Kakashi bent both your legs towards your chest, grabbing your hand so you could hold one leg as he pressed down the other.

Sliding himself in, he slowly bottomed out and the two of you sighed, Kakashi giving you a moment before starting a quicker pace.

“You feel- fuck- so- oh - good” Kakashi had picked up the pace, slamming into you now as you cried out.

“Kakashi please harder” You moaned.

Kakashi pulled out of you quickly, letting go of your leg as you did the same, before scooping his arm under your waist and flipping you over.

“What? I-”

“Lift your ass up.”

You obliged.

Lifting your ass slightly, Kakashi pulled your hips towards him and entered you again immediately, slamming into you with a brutal pace as your face pressed against the sheets.

Realizing he was closer to cumming than he thought, Kakashi reached one hand between your legs to begin rubbing your clit with his fingers, pressure building rapidly within you.

“You’re so fucking hot like this, come on baby I can feel you, you’re so close” Kakashi gritted out, thrusting into you with such fervor his headboard was hitting the wall with not-so-quiet repetition.

The familiar build within you started again for the third time that night, causing you to whine out for Kakashi as he kept his same pace.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” You cried out, feeling the third orgasm course through you, feeling your inner walls flutter around Kakashi as he came seconds later.

Collapsing together on his bed, you and Kakashi were spent.

“We should shower” You said, moving to get off of his bed and take care of how sweaty you were.

“Or…we could do it again?” Kakashi asked, looking at you with darkened eyes.

You turned to him and laughed.

“Yeah we should totally do it again”

#kakashi smut #kakashi x y/n #kakashi hatake #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #naruto

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potpourri-of-ecclecticism · 2 years

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I’ve been watching The Borgias (2011, Showtime) recently, and you can see that I have already GIF-ed a few scenes on my blog. I have perused the show tags on Tumblr, and one question caught my attention - how is Cesare’s love for Ursula different from his love for Lucrezia. In the earlier episodes, I camped with those who said that Ursula was his first “serious” love, while what he felt for Lucrezia was infatuation and possessiveness rooted in their blood connection. Cesare, from the beginning, is shown to be a young, hot-blooded lad who cannot keep his emotions in check around his sister. But when Ursula enters the picture, coinciding with Lucrezia getting married and physically separating from Cesare for the first time, he does what he knows best - becomes Ursula’s saviour (not before he saves his sister one last time from the grips of her vicious new husband). So, Cesare and Ursula go around town, not being able to keep their hands off each other, hearts racing every time they meet, and then he sleeps with her, following which, she decides to spend the rest of her life serving God. This leaves Cesare heartbroken, as much he conveys to Lucrezia when she visits for the first time after her wedding. So, we know that he was in love with Ursula briefly. It was a whirlwind romance for him, ONE THAT WAS DIFFERENT FROM WHAT HE FELT for Lucrezia.

These theories become apparent in the season 1 finale episode, when both the women come face-to-face, with Cesare in the picture. Cesare leaves Lucrezia with Ursula, now going by the name sister Martha, to help hide Lucrezia’s illegitimate pregnancy (as per her wishes). The conversation goes like:

He is focused on Ursula thus far, having met her after a long time (presumably). But when Lucrezia says this, he looks at her momentarily:

appreciating the fact that she understands the tribulations Ursula must have gone through to make this choice for herself, just like he did a few episodes earlier. THEY ARE ON THE SAME PAGE REGARDING URSULA.

Ursula then replies:

To this, Cesare’s gaze again flits from lady love to sister:

The gaze he gives to Ursula says that he is listening closely, weighing her words and interpreting her intentions all at once, but the moment she pulls in Lucrezia into the equation, his gaze softens, like as though saying “I know right, I’ve been distracted by [her beauty] for so darn long”!

Then Ursula takes Lucrezia’s hand and leads her to her room, giving her friendly advice along the way. As she does this, Cesare stops her and warns her that he will be visiting them often. They have a bit of a tensed back and forth, where he teases Ursula with his passive aggressive words and expressions (L bearing witness):

As an aside here, it is pretty interesting to see that Cesare addresses Ursula as ‘SIster’ instead of the usual ‘Sister Martha’ (even for formality sake in front of another individual), almost like there seems to be an intentional ambiguity as to whom he is relaying the message. He’s looking at Ursula, his tone is provocative, but his phrasing and the message in itself is tame, something he’d want to tell Lucrezia in private (as is evident from the jubilant smile she gives in reciprocation). It may well be that the message is for Lucrezia, and Cesare uses morose humour to indulge Ursula in the process. But I digress.

Back to the scene, he then turns to Lucrezia. Immediately, his expressions soften once again, a heavy burden descends in his heart as he realises the gravity of his sister’s condition and not knowing when he’ll see her next. Much like what he felt at the time of her wedding, a sense of déjà vu swarms over him, of his vulnerability, that led him to meet Ursula in the first place. The camera work in this moment also reinforces what truly matters to Cesare: it pans away from Ursula and lumps the siblings up together, the movement is so smooth and exquisite that we as viewers can see Cesare GRAVITATE towards Lucrezia and her receiving him whole-heartedly. This moment cements the fact that Ursula is all but a passing phase in Cesare’s life, one that he can control, while Lucrezia is... his basic instinct.

In a crowded room, Cesare and Lucrezia will somehow ALWAYS find each other and come together. They ditch all public etiquette and become IMMERSED in one another, acutely sensing what the other needs and giving/receiving without the fear of social stigmas attached to their actions. Everything is INVOLUNTARY when it comes to this duo.

The energy at this point also turns much more serious and beguiling, almost seductive (as with all their scenes), when compared to the passive aggressive banter Cesare has with Ursula moments ago. How his demeanour and expressions change between Ursula and Lucrezia is very telling of the fact that Ursula was a fleeting love, while Lucrezia is a permanent impression on his soul, like the crucifix on Jesus Christ. He loves(d) Ursula with his heart, while he loves Lucrezia with his soul.

#the borgias #lucrezia x cesare #cesare x lucrezia #cesare borgia #lucrezia borgia #ursula bonadeo #meta #personal #discussion #love #attraction #parallels #cinematography

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fallingyams · 6 months

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gods amongst men

No idea where this came from but hi yes I'm back with some writing *gasp* Honestly it's not my best piece, but I'm hungry and cranky and down with covid so eh :/

Enjoy I guess?

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They see him as a god, casting righteous judgement upon wicked men, infallible and wrathful and wrapped in a shroud of divinity. William knows all; his plans are absolute. William cannot make mistakes. William will save them all when everything falls into his hands.

They see him as the devil – an undefeatable evil that holds London in his grasp. He is the great evil that plunges the world into darkness; that no light could ever hope to overcome.

Louis sees a man, one burdened by the weight of expectation. He hates the world and all its people for what they’ve forced his brother to become. (And some days, he finds himself hating Albert just a little bit, for allowing his brother the means to sacrifice himself in this way.) He sees the way his brother throws himself into plan after meticulous plan, double and triple checking his calculations to ensure that they will not fail. He sees the way weary and half-lidded scarlet eyes scan pages of scrawled notes, accounting for every possibility.

For all his genius, his brother is still just a man. And no human should have to bear the weight of being a god.

Louis worries. He doesn’t know how not to worry, when his brother seems insistent on throwing himself headfirst into danger, all conviction and confidence and none of that is misplaced but-

-that’s still his brother putting himself in precarious situations. And Louis can’t help the nauseated churning in his gut when he realises that he’s so often powerless to help him. That he has no choice but to trust in his brother’s plans and all the moving pieces he’s put into place to play their roles right.

Traitorous fear crawls and tunnels and burrows deep into his heart that someday there will be a mistake that proves that his brother isn’t a god – a slip-up, a misreading, a meddlesome detective who refuses to stick to the script – and then Louis will truly be at the mercy of whatever gods exist in this lawless world, begging for his brother to be saved and he prays that such a day never comes.

His brother is a genius man. But he is still just a man. And if he will not worry about himself, possessing not a shred a self-preservation, then Louis will simply have to worry enough for the both of them and keep his damn brother alive.

#yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #my writing #the yams are writing #william james moriarty

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weuneigh · 2 months

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Consumed | an essay

In which the consequence of overconsumption is explored. A work so raw yet so far removed from the original words that founded this lament in the first place that it is an overconsumption in and of itself. It is an essay born from a college professor's prompt, that then became a learning experience, and finally into a challenge of how far our vocabulary can go.

Read on if you will.

Reality is far from an effortless concept to process. The normalcy, the chaos, the mundane; it does not matter. It can wear whatever moniker it sees fit, shapeshift however form it desires, be as light as the sun’s rays or as dark as the night sky, and I will reject it all the same for the simple truth that it is mine; my own weight to shoulder, my own troubles to resolve, and my own boredom to bear. It is a truth that I refuse, and a reality I will never accept.

Perhaps in the past I’ve learned to grasp with utmost sincerity that I was, I am, and I will, but not anymore. It is now a faraway memory, and even memories aren’t as vivid as they once were; the weight they hold on me is akin to a feather on a scale, and I hold on to it like a single thread on the brink of snapping. It is a stark contrast from my state a decade ago; blurs and blank spaces did not plague even the recesses of my mind, and there were more feathers before, too, with more threads, and they were thicker, stronger; my fingertips displayed not the calluses they now possess.

It was the age of discovery, of which I explored nooks and crannies my fingertips could reach, and my eyes could behold, and my curious gaze happened to have landed on books holding pages inked of words molded by novice hands or otherwise that promised stories living beyond the borders of this world. It was my greatest find. To have been a child fond of all things untrue, like talking mice who can do parkour, a backpack and a map that can hold a melody, a spiky, blue ball that can roll faster than lightning, a four eyed pink creature who can make someone cry, and a ketchup loving skeleton, literature was a breakthrough, the key that opened a hundred doors and a thousand possibilities.

I learned of the bliss one feels to indulge in words not of their own creation, and I clung to that high, to the disquiet that dissipates as I consume the ink and blood that isn’t mine. It is easier, lighter, and chiefly, safer. It is my getaway, my distraction, my escape. Yes, that was it. I won’t be chastised for the simple desire of fleeing reality every now and then. It is not a crime, no? Truly, it is no sin to yearn to forget just for once, yes? But, of course. To live is a heavy burden to carry, and to some, a worthwhile struggle; an honorable opportunity, but even then, one cannot fault another should they wish to breathe a different air, a different breeze created not by a tree with a brown trunk and green leaves that decorate its each, individual branches, but by a tree in which purple vegetation blooms right above its roots and rainbow butterflies nest on its flat stump.

In other words, fiction. That’s the crux. What better way to forget, or even better, to ease the load we carry, than to resort to fiction? The common man was no stranger to the euphoria one receives in the consumption of false realities, and I am a common man—was a common man; I learned the tedious way I no longer hold the right to bear the title, for the common man knew the limits, the common man knew the line it should not cross, and above all, the common man knew when to hold the reins, while I did not. What were the limits? Where was the line? How do I hold the reins? Can I still take control of it?

I asked myself once, was I the cause of my own undoing? Was I to blame for walking a path that once promised bliss? As I pen this I grew to learn that yes, I was to blame; I walked that path and strayed from it; I took one of my only means of respite and ran it to the ground. They say you learn a thing or two from your missteps, a lesson you ought to follow on your next attempt, and from this I learned that every pursuit carried out with such intensity and obsession is bound to become the pursuer’s viper. But then what? What’s next for me?

I’m not the only one to blame here. With a bitter heart, I’ll point my finger to this earth, or rather, to the billions of humans that it houses. Why do we fail to be kind? Why offer a hand while hiding a knife in the other? Why insist on paving a path that leads nowhere but down? Do we truly loathe the notion of someone else grasping at success that in turn, we’ll allow no one to win at all? I lament for our lives, for our past, our present, and our future. Had the world we designed donned more colors than black, white, and gray, I would not have found a home in words that hold false realities, to the point I’ve long forgotten the real texture of my own bed. I would not have turned a blessing into a curse. I would not have been so dependent, so obsessed, so addicted. For who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t want to solve a puzzle that isn’t theirs? To root for a fictional being to take the risk? To hate on a villain that won’t retaliate? I would, because it’s easier when the failure isn’t mine to face, when the consequences aren’t mine to bear, and when the pain isn’t mine to endure. It is a huge weight off my shoulders to know it isn’t my future that is owed, and the stakes are something I can disregard by simply closing the book.

I craved that high. I wanted it, and I needed it, and it gave me happiness, until it did not. I failed to notice when, but somewhere down the road, the tables turned, the chairs spun, and utensils fled the dining room. It was only when the dust settled that the truth came to fruition; the line between my consumption of fiction as a hobby and as a coping mechanism blurred until it was obscured beyond repair.

I relied on it a little too much, to be honest, and therein lies the problem; too much; two words that my vocabulary, up to this day, refuses to welcome, and so, I paid the price.

Who would’ve thought a thing I indulged in with such fervor and hunger would become a crutch I, due to unfortunate and inescapable circumstances, cannot let go of? That something that once, and still, to some degree, brought me joy would be the very thing that would also take it away from me?

I never wanted this, nor did I ever see it going this far, but, oh, such irony, it is now a reality I must face, the reality that fiction, a medium I held so dear to my heart, is no longer the healthy escape it once was.

I clung too tight to the wonders of imagination that I lost my grip on what was true. I enamored myself with pretty semantics that I let it pull me so far away from sincere words. I poured all my anger on fictional villains that I allowed the real ones to parade their shoes all over me. I associated my joy with the successes of determined protagonists knowing full well they won’t be present to celebrate mine. I walked the path of a million false names and yet I cannot for the life of me don my own with the same steadfastness and grit.

This reality consumed me, and so I consumed an alternate reality, until it consumed me as well.

End

Thank you for reading

#essay #writers #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #literature #writerscommunity #my writing

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mochiswifey · 2 years

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AT LAST

[Repost from another account]

Taiju Shiba X Reader

Letting him go Prequel/Sequel

He sits on the rooftop bench of their old high school as he admired the sky knowing that she’s finally happy and at peace. She used to follow him everywhere. And even though he was irritated at first he grew to like the way she only had her eyes for him even though he wasn’t able to show it. He always had intentionally leaded her here. The first time he kissed her was here as well. He softly smiles as his eyes went to the wooden fence that holds one of his precious memories. He stood up and went closer to it. He squats down and touches the particular fence he never forgot.

“Hurry the fuck up I have a meeting to attend.” He says as he takes off his school tie while he glares at her. She smiles at him and cupped his face with her hands. He was taken aback and he wasn’t able to do anything.

“Just watch. I want to have many babies with you and I want you to be mine forever so…” She pulls out a small lock and key from her pocket and a wide grin on her face appears.

“What the fuck are you even saying?” He says confused. She turns the lock to the other side revealing his name and her name. Their names were perfectly carved on cursive and he can’t help but to smile when he remembers how happy she was to have that lock. But his smile soon faded when he remembered the thing he did after she proudly showed that lock to him.

“Don’t fucking waste my time again with this kind of stupid shit.” He says as he harshly grabbed the lock from her hand and throws it away from the rooftop.

“Taiju why would you do that?” Her eyes waters as she looks down from the rooftop trying to search for the lock she was proud to have had. He didn’t answer her and left her alone. Taiju’s heart breaks. He regrets everything. If only he had been able to love her like she did.

He grips on the fence tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He was about to leave when a carving caught his eyes. He moves his head closer to the fence examining the faint carving.

“I will get Taiju Shiba no matter what.” He traces the words. He wasn’t able to control his tears anymore and he lets it spill. He chuckles at her for being too silly. Everything she did was for him. He grips on the fence missing her. Missing the way she smiles at him. Missing the way she loved him unconditionally. He miss the way she dances when she’s happy. The way she runs to the front door to greet him after work. He misses everything that he had lost.

“I…. I’m sorry.” He looks up to the sky that reminded him so much of her. Clear and bright. Birds fly freely. And his eyes landed to the most beautiful one and he saw it as her. He smiles through his tears knowing that she’s free of the burdens he gives her.

“Taiju.” A woman’s voice came from behind him. He turns his head to see her friend.

“I’m sorry. I. I had my men tracked you. I didn’t have the guts to go back to her house. I just can’t bear the pain.” Her friend who desperately tried to pull her away from him hands him a gorgeous book and a voice recorder.

“She loved you. Truly. She knew you were bad for her but she loved you more than she loved herself.” She wipes the tears from her eyes before leaving the man that took her precious friend away from her.

He opens the book that smells like her.

“I trust you with my secret because you’re my friend. I’m so sorry for putting you through a painful part of your life but will you do me one last favor and read this in a place where I was the happiest?”

The first page says and he nodded as he wipes his tears. He stood up and went to the ocean he knew she would love.

The hearing is the last sense to die in the human body. So when she saw the ocean she loved the most she tried to fight and listened to him. She was content and happy to know that he was willing to take her into the place she loves the most. She was also happy to know he’ll always hold her hand and never pulls away from her again. She didn’t fight anymore because at last she got what she wanted. She had the man she loved until her death love her back. He didn’t let her go. He had her in his arms until they were found by her father. He didn’t let her go for days and continued whispering the things they would do when she opens her eyes again. He promised her everything but nothing was enough to make her comeback.

He drove for hours on ends and got into the ocean just as the sun starts to sets. He sat on the sand not caring if he gets wet or dirty. He open the book as the cool breeze hits him.

“Taiju. Where do I even begin with him? You know that I love him right? I don’t even know if I just love him anymore. I want to hug him every time I see him and I just want to be in his arms 24/7. I know that he doesn’t like me yet but I’ll do my best to be enough for him.

February 12th”

“He definitely has a temper but nothing that I can’t handle. His birthday is coming up soon!!!!! And I can’t wait to present him the most beautiful rosary I’ve ever seen. When we get married I’ll tell him the tradition of going to church five days in a row before Christmas Day. My grandmother says that when we do that God grants our wish! And my wish is to be happy with him and our kids. I can’t wait to have kids with him. I’m sure they’ll look adorable because their father is adorable. I can’t stop thinking how our family will be. I know he’ll be a good father because deep down he’s a good man.

December 12th”

“My birthday is coming up and I know he doesn’t know that but I wish to god that he’ll dance with me.

August 1st”

He reads her wishes and hopes that never came true. Not a single page missed him. She was always thinking of him. Not once did she forgets about him.

“I love him. And I know I’m hurting him. He’s not happy with me. He’s never been happy with me. I know that he’s suffocating. He’s been suffocating for years. But how can I let go the man I’m willing to live for? Every time he looks at me I can’t help but to feel broken and empty. He doesn’t love me and he will never love me. I’m destroying him. I’m destroying his heart. I’m so sorry Taiju. I’m so sorry. I know that he loves her. His eyes lights up whenever he sets his eyes on her. She makes him alive while I kill him. I wanted to make him feel alive but all I do is destroy him. All I do is destroy everything. I destroyed him because I couldn’t be happy without him and enough is enough. All I want is for him to be happy. And his happiness is her. He’s been miserably cage for years with me and I’m setting him free.

July 22nd”

That was a week before her death.

“I guess this is goodbye. I know that there’s little to no chance of him reading this but.

Hi, love. If you ever feel any pain of me being gone just know that I’m fine. I’m always fine as long as you are. I’m gonna tell you a few things I haven’t been able to tell you. First, I like the smell of your hair. Second, I like your eyes. They always reminded me of the ocean. Third, I always imagine having seven kids with you. Fourth, if we meet again in the other life will you let me love you again? No matter how many times you turn me down I’ll chose you over and over again. It’s silly of me to hope that you’ll chose me at least one time. But remember the avengers won once against Thanos and I’m taking all the chance I get;)” He chuckles while his heart stung in pain.

“I couldn’t help myself but to think all possible future with you. The most silly one is us living on an isolated island surrounded with sunflowers. We live on a big cottage and our children roams around the island while I cook and you fish. I mean how silly is that? You fishing? And me cooking? Neither of us can do what I dream of but I love that imagination the best because in that…. We were in harmony and peace.

If you ever feel sad or down. Just remember I’ll always love you wherever I am. There’s no one that will replace you in my heart.

And can you do me one last favor love? Can you play the voice recorder if you happen to have found it?”

He push the voice recorders button and a familiar voice laughed. The voice he misses more than anything.

“If you ever played this then I’m probably dead. Taiju. Don’t be sad okay? Maybe you won’t be sad but if you’re sad don’t be. I don’t resent you. How can I resent you you’re the best thing that ever happen in my life. I love you. I love you and I love you. Here’s an embarrassing story of mine to make you laugh. This is like legit embarrassing and this took me months to recover from. I took too many laxative before going to school because I was constipated and I shit myself on the train. It was horrible for normal people but I was just like meh. It was so gross. Then I threw my pants away on the subway stations toilet and went home like nothing happened. Did that make you laugh? I hope it did.”

He laughs through his tears nodding like she was in front of him telling the story herself.

“Can you please do me one last favor before I say goodbye?”

“Smile for me Taiju. Your smile lights up my dark soundless world.” **************************************************************

Plagiarism is a crime. ^ Thank you for reading. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated.

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thehoneyknight · 1 year

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Memoria, sketch pages 97-108

(Radiant Arc 10, 3.35)

(Pages 102-106 have a unique page format with two dialogues. For clarity of reading each separate dialogue will be done in turns and labelled as such)

Page 97

Radiance- Little Vessel, we convene once more. The Blessing that guards your dreams may not allow my light to shine within you but there remains a part inside that calls out to me- no matter your repressions. You are so resistant to embrace the light of dawn, to accept the rightful truth. Yet you reach out to claim it from the confines of your mind. Why keep up such pretences, Pawn of Wyrm?

There is only one outcome to these endeavours. The light shall be rekindled, reborn, remembered. One way or another.

Another within the Hive has accepted my guidance. The Hive will fall shortly, and to the cause of one who gave himself by choice. Perhaps when we next meet, little one, you will realise how right that decision truly was. You are too late.

Page 98

((Ch2.28))

I.Mato- You! You… are so much like him… Too much like him.

Oro was not one to make a hasty promise. And you- you were born to fulfil a promise. You… despite everything. You came back to finish the deed. Oro would have done the same. Oro would never have broken his promise. Never given up. Just like you…

There is only one reason Oro would break his promise… Oro is dead.

Page 99

((Ch2.29))

Mato- Why did you come back, little one?

((Ch2.30))

Mato- Why stir uncertainty within the purpose you were given? You could have freed yourself. … For yourself… ha. Perhaps I have mistaken you, Honey. You are not like Oro at all. You are like me.

And if so… where is that Vessel friend you once followed? Are you not trying to find the ones you care about too?

((Ch2.31))

Page 100

((Ch2.32))

((Ch2.33))

Paladin- I am.

((Ch2.34))

Mato- I am going to continue looking for Oro within the kingdom, despite what Vespa says. She is withholding something- I know it. I suppose we all suppress something…

…You’ve changed, Honey. When we first met at the Howling Cliffs that wasn't your name. I can guess that Vespa gave you your title- Honey Knight- but what became of Luma?

How far are you willing to change for her? What changes have you already undergone? I wonder, do you even know?

Luma. Make your own choices. You can change the future.

Page 101

((Ch2.35))

Hornet- I will let you carry your burdens, Vessel, but do not mistake that for my support. We all have our own futures to return to. Do not forget that.

((Ch2.36))

Comban- Be back soon.

((Ch2.37))

((Ch2.38))

Page 102 (Memoria)

((Ch2.39))

Luma- Remember me, Luma. You can’t deny the future. Luma.

((Ch2.40))

Hornet- I’ll not hold back. It is my duty to protect this kingdom’s future. The one to bear the Brand takes such a future for their own. This is my promise to the one you would call The Beast. This is my future.

((Ch3.1))

((Ch3.3))

Bardoon- A large choice you have made. Before you is another.

Page 103 (Memoria)

Bardoon- To seek the past and define a new future? To offer your heart to the inevitability? What would your likes pursue?

To see visage of collapse and try to change fate to one’s own anyway. There are dangers in such things. You were not chosen to bear the Brand, hrmm? Knowing this, would you try to claim your own path as Wyrm once did? Consider your truth. Is this future your motive, or something of one’s mind?

((Ch3.4))

Comban- Whah!

((Ch3.8))

God Tamer- You are not strong enough to protect your ‘friends’. You are not strong enough to protect everyone.

Page 104 (Memoria)

((Ch3.9))

God Tamer/Radiance- I will (Destroy/Take) my victory. By my own mind / Kill the empty one.

Comban- Everything will be okay.

Tamer’s Beast/Comban- Shell broken. Mind lost. Awoken by light? Forgotten and twisted. Instincts of combat as beared. Refusal of death / Denial of memory

((Ch3.11))

Scholar- You have two souls. We see neither soul belongs to you- no, we see the entirety of this soul does not belong to you. You are soulless. Yet you have soul.

Your spells, your souls. They do not complete you, odd bug. (twins of soul… lack one’s own at all…)

((Ch3.12))

Argent- Luma. Focus.

Page 105 (Memoria)

Argent- Sibling.

((Ch3.13))

((Ch3.15))

Quirrel- I ache for those places I could not have dreamt. Those places that call and I cannot remember.

((Ch3.17))

Paladin- I think a convergence of events has begun. It is only a matter of time until this old kingdom undergoes a change of fate. The Vessels returning, Quirrel seeking Monomon, the King’s Brand claimed. We will all play a part in Hallownest’s future, if we choose it.

The Dreamers gave their lives for the kingdom. To become a Seal. In a sense they are already dead. There is no way to wake up from that… There are no more loopholes left to use.

Comban- You just said the future was ours if we choose it. I choose that Herrah shouldn't have to die to stop the Infection.

Page 106 (Memoria)

((Ch3.20))

((Ch3.21))

Dailon- The Honey Knight will train their nail with me. It is clear even to me they are not strong enough to protect you all…

((Ch3.22))

Dailon- Now. Try again. Stronger! I won’t hold back!

((Ch3.24))

Paladin- You choose power and disregard the future for everyone else.

Dailon- What choice do you give Honey? What choice did you give the other Vessels caught under Vespa’s wings? Kilter? My daughter? Yourself?

You give Honey no choice in becoming the next Vessel for your Queen’s Blessing. You named them for how useful they are to you. Honey Knight. They are the ‘bridge between honey and void’, no? Are they all the same to a Queen? Those past Vessels failed. Died. Killed. Paladin. You cannot talk to me of choices.

Honey- I didn’t have a choice!

Page 102 (Honey)

Honey- Where would we be without the King’s Brand? What future would you have chosen without its light? We are almost at the end of your memories, Honey. And the future has only just begun.

Page 103 (Honey)

Honey- Together we can fight for the end of history. For new dreams of Hallownest. A new light.

For all the King’s Brand meant, it is not the honour of what has been done. He fought for a future unchanging. There must always be change. Change is what makes us alive.

Page 104 (Honey)

Honey- Stasis is binding. And for all in stasis, the King’s light was the seal. Sealing away the future. It is broken now. Changed.

You bear the light of choice, Honey. The light of a new future.

Page 105 (Honey)

Honey- It is your light, Honey! You are the light of Hallownest! And you have changed the future.

There is only one purpose left. The Black Egg can be opened. The Infection can be stopped.

Page 106 (Honey)

Honey- You know how to face The Radiance. You can reclaim light lost. You can be Radiant.

You can do this! And most importantly. You can be yourself. You can be Honey. You can be…

Page 107

Honey- You!

Page 108

Argent- We have always been a part of you, Honey. Even when we fought our selves. And you had no way to know. But we don’t define you. You are you. Honey is… Honey.

We will be united a little longer. Seek The Abyss for the power behind this unity.

Later, when this is all over. We can be together again. Apart. We hope to see you in the future. We entrust ourselves to you, Honey.

#hollow knight #hk comic #mod sketch #one comic left- 'daybreak'- will post it next week :)

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ebatothemoon · 1 year

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In defense of ONEUS and RAVN

I still remember how seeing those accusations felt. A pot of boiling water was being poured onto my head. I looked at my wall, then my few ONEUS albums, then back to the wall. My eyes were spitting fire. I distanced and distracted myself to pretend I can handle this without pressure, I found an excuse to have some laughter and joy for a couple of hours. Then, days of missed sleeps, worrying days, anxious waitings, trying to dig into small pieces of hope that it is just a terrible nightmare… they came along. I kept track of those days without being able to cure anything. Then, I learned from those loyal fans who truly bothered themselves to find the inconsistencies in those serious accusations. I got encouraged to bother myself to translate those documented inconsistencies to my own native language to help another fan page, to help RAVN, to help ONEUS by hoping to cure people from those sickening mindsets. In the face of burnt bridges, the symbolic/literal attempts being shown to the members as if fans were showing bats under the table, them carrying all this burden after a marvelous era and right before a world tour, probably the worst timing ever that an artist can witness, seeing all the effort being put out there to save them from this disgusting situation leading to cracks is heartachingly sad. ONEUS and RAVN are not only the victims of this scandal. They are the victims of such abusive treatment from their company and from so many fans.

Beforehand, RBW’s immediate action on taking care of the situation is an aspect I still appreciate. The problem starts with they have done afterwards: the fansigns, the cut-out edits, the ridiculous announcements... At the core of these insensitive steps until now, I wish they would just not keep on organizing those fansigns. I wish members would not have to carry all that burden on their shoulders. We cannot know what was in their mind, maybe they thought they could cool down the situation, maybe they thought they could find comfort in the time of chaos but what has been speculated at those fansigns were not worth the effort they put out there. I’m sorry but I just can’t forget Hwanwoong’s eyes and his tightened throat… Was this all worth it really? If yes, at what cost?

To the fans who have put the slightest effort to let this happen by not calming themselves to wait for a proper justice and using such a serious scandal carelessly for their own egoistic choices to legitimize all the superficial hatred agenda towards Ravn, the truth reveal itself one way or another. The question is, will you be able to face your conscience when you realize your populist actions have not only undermined his whole effort in ONEUS’s music and chemistry, how he touched members’ and lots of fans’ lives gently but also you have acted ignorantly and insensitively about SA and the true victims of such traumatizing incidents? If members’ tearful, truly vulnerable and reminiscing, not your “uwu oppa is so cute” moment of ments on the first concert day made you not realize that, I don’t know what else would do that.

Still on this day, hats off to ONEUS to bear with this burden someway, somehow in such a disaster timing of their careers. Lately, I have been seeing comments about them acting unprofessional and fans getting disappointed because of them pushing this 5-member agenda this fast and out loud. I invite you to a moment of empathy, please. Imagine that you have just gained a really important momentum in your career, collecting trophies left and right, you are about to go on a world tour, one of the most essential ways for artists to make actual money, and then bam! Just couple of days before the world tour, ONEUS had to adapt themselves to their new reality and we don’t have a single clue whether they got through it or not. They even had to act faster than us because at the end of the day, it is them running from schedule to schedule to keep their career safe, not us. What were we expecting really? Them cancelling shows, them unwillingly perform at the shows and put their image at risk? If not acting accordingly, how are they going to continue their schedules? I am not saying this is how it should be but unfortunately, this is how it should be in this industry. I wish it would not be like that and we would talk about these transparently. You don’t have to agree on it but still acknowledging and respecting their side would help to process their situation as well. Let me tell you, the timing of this is sh#t yet they are professional af and that’s why it hurts this much. I wish we could have treated each other’s wounds in another time, not in these conditions…

Still on this day, hats off to RAVN for his legacy on ONEUS. I hope we get to hear his side whenever he is ready to reflect on it. Even if I hate this, his decision on leaving the group is his way of showing respect. In my view, he did not want to be the cause of the possible shades to be thrown in the future to the name of ONEUS and if this is not an act of loyalty, then I don’t know what it is. Yet it does not change the feeling of mine that I am forced to say an unwilling goodbye to a brother who loved this idol life in his own glamourous ways, showed how staying humane and humble in this disgustingly competitive industry still matters, was not afraid of sharing pure love and caring to the members and us, inspired me how to look myself beautifully at the mirror. Today’s me is not afraid to show this affection and appreciation to him and tomorrow’s me, whatever the outcome is going to be, will not be disappointed in yesterday’s me for showing this sincere admiration to ONEUS and RAVN.

Last but not least, to all ot5+1, everyone of us is healing in their own paces. Your encouraging and sincere words on this virtual universe is my reason to start writing a blog and I hope we can heal each other’s wounds carefully. Thank you for your inspirational stance in this time of chaos. Sending big and warm hugs to all of you!

#oneus #ravn #protectravn #kpop #seoho #keonhee #leedo #hwanwoong #xion

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panthera-dei · 1 year

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Trigger/content warning: mentions of suicide & self-harm; mentions of generational trauma; mentions of mental & physical illness

This is long. TL;DR: Never give up, never surrender. This is my story.

"I'm participating in a Discord photo challenge right now. Actually, it was my idea to start the competition in the first place, when I saw the original challenge graphic posted on the Rethink Church page on Instagram.

I tend to be an overthinker and a planner, at least to a degree, so early on I brainstormed what I would share for each day. Today's prompt was Disciple. I planned to share a picture of a book I had read about the prophet Elijah and his struggles with depression. To tell the truth, I've been half-assing this challenge and all my friends know it, since I questioned the ethics of participation as the host. So I probably wasn't even going to post a caption.

Then tonight, I suddenly felt the need to share a little more. I don't particularly want to. I'm anxious and worried about being judged. I feel like I'm attention-seeking or being too vulnerable. But I also think if more people shared their stories, their real stories, maybe the world would be a kinder place. So I guess here I go.

Three years ago, I wanted to take my own life. Or at the very least, I wanted it to end somehow. I had suffered relatively minor bouts of depression before, and since. But three years ago, I was at my lowest.

I was living through a pandemic with 2 family members with contamination OCD: 1 moderate, and 1 extreme. I believed myself ineffective at my career, with anxiety over working in a new job and with imposter syndrome over the things I did right. I was suffering from menorrhagia which caused some pretty severe bleeding, and it was brought on by PCOS, which is a chronic endocrine condition that affects almost every part of my life. I was struggling with being neurodivergent, and with the fact that no one in my family believed I was struggling. I was struggling with being queer and non-binary in the rural Bible Belted South, and wondering how a place I love so much could fail to love me back. I struggled with being asexual amid fears of never finding someone to share my life with. I struggled with being called - truly called - to what most people today would call paganism and witchcraft (which are terms that I mainly use out of convenience if I'm being honest). And I was resentful of being the eldest daughter and oldest sibling, and thus being not only my brother's keeper but also bearing the burden of my family's intergenerational trauma on all sides.

It wasn't fair and I knew it, and I didn't see a way out of it. I resented my suffering, both real and perceived. I felt hatred and shame at myself for having a mind and a body that did not work and would never be "normal." I hated feeling weak and felt the hopelessness of knowing that I would never be strong - and at the same time, I hated the fact that I had to be strong because weakness was a privilege I couldn't afford. I hated feeling masculine because I believed that it was wrong and I hated being in the wrong body, and yet I also hated feeling feminine because it felt too much like being weak and soft and exploitable.

And I never shared most of this with anyone. I hid as much of it as possible from as many people as I could, for as long as I could. I didn't believe that I deserved help and I didn't believe that I even wanted it since I was only planning to be alive for maybe 5 more years tops.

And throughout it all, I was so angry. I always get angry when I'm depressed, but for the first time in my life, I was angry at God.

I've been a Christian my entire life. Not a cultural Christian, but someone who truly believes what Jesus preached and tries - and usually fails - to walk the way He walked. I grew up with a Catholic father and a Protestant mother. I bounced between a Catholic church and a Methodist church for the first decade of my life. I remember (vaguely) my first Communion. I remember early Easters. I remember the first time I felt the Holy Spirit. I remember the first time I realized a prayer had been answered. And I still remember a "conversion experience" moment which I, to this day, have never spoken of to anyone and probably never will. My faith had been questioned, researched, studied, defended, and explored… But until the year 2020, it had never been tested.

That year, I was so angry with God. I began to relate, for the first time, to Bono's words: "Wake up, dead man, I'm alone in the world, and a fucked up world it is too."

I would cry to God in the middle of the night knowing that no one would hear me. I would ask Him why He made me so broken with no hope of being fixed. I would ask Him why I had to go through so much despite knowing that many others suffered more than I did. I asked Him why He made me so unlovable when all I craved was to be loved. I would beg Him for healing, for mercy, for love, for forgiveness, for death. Throughout it all, it seemed that I never received an answer except "Wait." And I got so tired of waiting.

I didn't want to wait. I wanted to die. I wanted to, in my words, "go home."

Well, obviously I didn't die. I haven't yet "gone home." I waited. Not patiently and not happily. But I waited.

And little by little, I received some answers. I didn't get them all at once, and there are some answers that I haven't received even now. But I'm starting to see why I am who I am and why things unfolded the way they have.

My mother has always told me the story of Queen Esther. It was one of my favorites since childhood, and one quote has become a shorthand for the two of us: "For such a time as this."

Whenever life gets hard or a difficult circumstance comes, she would always say that. No matter how hard it gets, there's a purpose in everything, and maybe you were meant to be here to help… For such a time as this.

Three years later, I understand. There are queer children who are coming out to me and asking me to be a safe space for them when no one else knows. There are depressed children and children with trauma who come to me for help and advice because they trust me to help them. There are neurodivergent kids who are struggling and don't have anyone else who understands their unique needs and mindsets. And I do. I have friends who need help and mentorship, and other wonderful people in my life and online who sometimes look to me for support. And I can do that because of what I learned from my own journey of struggle and recovery. I've learned how to be a beacon for Christians and pagans and everything in between, because my struggles have made me open-minded and empathetic.

I've learned how to appreciate and respect my body and my mind, and to remember that while I'm not perfect, I am in fact wonderfully made and God did not make a mistake with my soft, curvy, ungraceful body or my unique, quirky mind.

I've found love and friendship in the most unexpected places. From humans, animals, plants, and beyond. I appreciate the beauty of each day - even the hard ones - more than I ever would have before I forgot how nice it is to really exist and be alive.

And all I can say is, if I had ended my life three years ago, or two years ago, or one, I would have missed out on all of this. I would have missed love and plants and pet fish and sunsets. I would have missed snails and snakes and the Beach Boys and new coworkers and new friends and old friends. I would have missed cards and shopping trips and dogs and video games and the random offers to buy my car.

And I would have missed out on helping people and loving people.

I was angry at God only because I didn't understand what God knew all along: that I was born "for such a time as this." I came out of those fights with depression stronger than before, and with the ability to let myself be soft. I let myself be open and flawed and real - or at least I try to. And while my faith was tested, it's never been broken. I still love God. I still follow Christ. I still walk with the Holy Spirit. And I still proclaim the Good News.

I am a disciple."

#christian faith #christianity #faith in god #faith in jesus #testimony #mental health #depression survivor #christian #mental health awareness

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the-day-after-i-killed-myself · 1 year

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Dear whoever found this note,

...

By the time you're reading this, my brain is splattered across the ground, I have a bullet in my head, and you came to my room to investigate for the class trial, or something like that. I'd pretend to be smart, but really, it's all a bunch of showmanship that I can't bear to keep up anymore. Don't worry, although I'm sure that you wouldn't, no one murdered me. I'm dead because I did this to myself. Yeah, that's right: this is a suicide note. You all must be thrilled, right? That's good. Glad to be a burden off your shoulders. I could tell from the get-go that none of you liked me in the slightest, and it really made me upset. I hate to be a burden to you guys, because I love you all. Truly. Even if I act like a bitch constantly, that was never how I actually felt. So I've decided that this would be best for us: me to be dead on the ground, probably rotting away in an unmarked morgue for eternity, as you all have a party full of games, food, fun, and laughter, to celebrate the wonderful occasion. This is for the best, so I can no longer make your lives anymore miserable than they already are. Now that I'm gone, everyone can finally focus on getting out of here together, and I won't be in the way for once. And that way, also, now that I'm dead, it increases the chances for the rest of you to survive. I don't want to be one of the remaining students. I would much rather it be one of you guys than me any day. I'm sorry, for everything. For being so unruly. That's the only way I really know how to communicate. But that's no excuse. I'm especially sorry to Shuichi and to Kaede. I wanted so badly to get close to you two, but I can tell you hated me with your whole being. So now I'm gone. I wish that me finally dying, although bringing myself much despair, will bring you all the hope you need to make it out of here. See you… someday. Enjoy the rest of your lives. I may not be able to do the same, so you'll have to do it for me, too. Not that you'd care about my final wishes, but I really do just want you to be happy. No more violence, no more death, no more incessant bloodshed. And finally, to whoever found this, show it to everyone else so you all can have the easiest class trial possible in this dumb Killing Game. Remember that I love you guys, and that I'm only doing this for your sake.

Well, that's it for me. I'm running out of space on the page, so I'll have to cut this short. My "journal" is filled with some journal entries but also some letters to you, individually. So don't feel like I've left you with nothing. All my findings on the Killing Game and the Mastermind are in there. I hope you find the strength to make it out and to defeat whoever put us here, but I can't win this fight. I'm sorry.

...

Sincerely,

Ouma Kokichi

#tw: suicide #tw: suicide note #tw: major character death

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

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Scandal Ch. 4 - Loki x Reader

Summary: Nothing can stop the wrath of the God of Mischief, when he realizes he had been deceived by the people he trusted more than his beloved wife.

Warnings: Angst, Violence

Words: ~1700

"But what the world fails to realize is a villain is just a victim whose story hasn’t been told.” - Chris Colfer

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist: @hi-there-x @haloangel391 @misssilencewritewell @babayaga67 @accioremuslupinn @mochimommy2002 @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @damalseer @bethanystan @loser-alert @star017 @nina1800 @queenariesofnarnia @n1fangirlsblog @vengefulsokovian @lunamoonbby @freyagallileaevans

A/N: This is a rather boring chapter, but we’re far from done!

“She already left several moons ago. It was her own wish, we did not force her.”

“Where to?”

“Midgard.”

Loki was long back on Asgardian territory, yet his mind couldn’t find peace. Well, how could he, now knowing what Laufey told him?

His world had already crumbled to dust when he left you behind - but if Laufey spoke the truth, his whole existence had been built on lies from the very start.

Not knowing where to search for answers, the prince sneaked into Odin’s forbidden chambers, walking in the shadows protecting him in the midst of night.

There it was: The Cascet of Ancient Winters - the very relic that doomed the fate of your newborn, revealing it’s shameful blood to all of Asgard.

It just urged him to try and see for himself, even if the truth would shatter his heart.

“STOP!”

Loki wouldn’t even flinch at the Allfather’s words, already tightly holding the cascet in both hands.

“Am I cursed?”

The God of Mischief wouldn’t even dare to turn around and look at the person he always ever thought to be his father - for as soon as he laid fingers on the cascet, he began turning into that same shade of blue your son did.

Panic began to rise in the young god, fearing to be killed by the people he loved so dearly shall they lay eyes upon what he truly was. His chest began to tighten, fastened breath turning into a cold mist.

“No” was Odin’s firm but unsatisfying answer, to which Loki only responded by putting down the cascet.

“What am I?”

“You’re my son.” His words came from the heart, not even faltering as Loki turned around to present his Jotun form to the Allfather.

“What more than that?!” he almost growled in between gritted teeth, appearance slowly returning to his usual self.

At that deepest, darkest day in his life yet, Loki would be too blinded by betrayal and rage to see his father’s true love towards his adoptive son.

“The cascet wasn’t the only thing you took back from Jotunheim that day, was it?” The prince took firm steps towards the man that he had known all his life, but had become a complete stranger towards him through that sole moment.

Again, only a “no.”

Loki’s mind was racing, thinking about what else may have been hidden from himself - and what kind of consequences that revelation had for everything he had done up until now.

“In the aftermath of the battle, I went to the temple -- and I found a baby” the Allfather continued, “Small, for a giant’s offspring. Abandoned, suffering, left to die...”

“...Laufeyson” Loki completed Odin’s sentence. So every word the King of the Jotunns had said was indeed a fact.

“W-W-why?!” he almost whined, voice weak and defeated. “You were knee deep in Jotun blood, why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child-”

“No.” The God of Lies himself had become so sick of being fed those, starting to snap. “You took me for a purpose. What was it???”

For what felt like an eternity, there was only silence.

The image of that small, blue child in his arms had been painfully burned into his heart back then. But now that he knew the story behind all of this, it held a completely different meaning.

Just like he had been abandoned back on that frozen rock, he had abandoned his own child, as well as the love of his life.

Outcast, abused, left to die...and now, god knows what had happened to you...

That secret had destroyed more than just his own life. It had ruined the only honest happiness he was ever given - you, and his son.

“TELL ME!”

He just needed to know: The reason behind all the pain and suffering he had to endure - and caused to others as well.

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace...through you.”

That was just too much for Loki to bear. “What?” he reacted with a barely-there voice, every word of his father shooting daggers through his heart.

“But those plans no longer matter.” No matter what Odin might want to explain, Loki wasn’t able to listen to any more, jumping into his own conclusions.

“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up inside of here until you might have use for me?!” he croaked, afraid of the answer.

“Do not twist my words.”

“You could told me what I was from the beginning!” he now yelled, furious at how virtuous Odin would still defend his own action. “Why didn’t you?”

“You’re my son” he repeated once again. “I only wanted to protect you from the truth.”

“Why, ‘cause I-I-I-I’m the monster people tell their children about at night?!” Loki clenched his fists, fingernails drawing blood to his palm.

“At least when my son was born, you should’ve dropped the charade!” Pure agony was dripping from every syllable, and for a mere second, his eyes were glistering bright red once again. “You’ve forsaken two innocent lives - the most important beings in my pathetic existence - and now you’ve burdened me with their suffering as well!”

That sure was a miracle - how a person so broken from the beginning wouldn’t collapse under pressure that huge.

“It all makes sense now, why you favoured Thor, all those years! Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”

But who cares about the throne, honestly? Not him. Not anymore. Ever since he knew you.

It all dawned to him now: What he could have, if only he had put his trust in you like so many times before.

All his life, he only ever remembers a shadow. At first, he thought it to be the shadow of his brother, or never being enough for his own father. Maybe the other Asgardians looking down on him, making him feel like he doesn’t belong.

Yet in the end, that very shadow was inside of his own mind.

But you?

You had loved Loki with all of your heart, banishing the darkness from his mind through your bright affection.

It didn’t matter to you what anyone thought of him - or even what he thought himself to be.

Because you saw him for what he really was, and he found peace with that.

And he was certain that it wouldn’t matter to you whether he called himself Odinson or Laufeyson - as had you loved his child dearly, ever since he took his first breath.

He could never make up for that greatest of his sins, Loki knew that much.

Or...?

“Where are you going, my son?”

Reluctantly, Loki made his way past the man he now only considered a stranger. Still, when Odin tried to reach out to him, Loki immediately ducked away, startled and afraid for his true nature to hurt anyone.

More than ever before, the God of Mischief despised himself to the core of his being. He was lost, confused, shocked - and still, determined.

“Creating a Kingdom for my family.”

___

[Earth, 2 months later]

On times like these, you thought your mind was betraying you.

Especially when you catched yourself reminiscing sweet, innocent moments - far back in the past, before everything you ever held dearly got destroyed.

You still felt his touch, feather-light on your skin, as well as his scent haunting your memories. And sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder how life would have been, well...if things were different.

Frantically shaking your head, you clasped the book closed and threw it into a corner of the small one-room-flat SHIELD had provided for you.

Your magical pockets were always almost empty, except for a few necessities - and that book. It held the first flower Loki ever gifted you, and you had dried it in between those pages so it would never lose it’s beauty.

But now, remembering meant pain - because Loki Laufeyson would never come back.

For he is dead.

Fell of the Bifrost, as confirmed by Heimdall, who secretly kept in touch with you all this time. So you knew it all: Of his grief and treason, which slowly led him into madness.

And what did you do in the meantime?! Nothing at all!

You should’ve tried everything, anything to get back and help him go through that time of need, hel!

“Endure it, Y/N...you need to stay strong...for Liam.” After so many times of telling those words to yourself, you doubted them to have any effect on your broken heart at all.

Yet it would never fail to keep you going. For that wonderful child was proof of your love, and now your last memory of him.

Rocking the small Jotun to sleep, tears found their way to your eyes like so many times before, dropping to the baby’s face unnoticed.

So you tried to sing your pain away as you cooed that little wonder to sleep.

“Å eg lengtar så tidt dette landet å sjå, Og det dreg meg så blidt, når eg langt er ifrå. Med den våknande vår vert min saknad so sår, så mest gråta, mest gråta eg kan. Å eg minnest, å eg minnest, å eg minnest så vel dette land. Å eg minnest, å eg minnest, å eg minnest så vel dette land.”

*Translation:

“Oh I long so long to see this land, And it pulls me so gently, when I'm far away. With the waking spring host my missing so sore, so most cry, most cry eg can. Oh I remember, oh I remember, oh I remember this country as well. Oh I remember, oh I remember, oh I remember this country as well.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki / Reader #Loki / You #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki Friggason #God of Mischief #Loki x Y/N #Self Insert #Writing #Fanfiction #Jotunn #Jotunheim #Asgard #Frost Giant

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maschotch · 2 years

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favorite hotch scene???

oh my god. you're killing me akdsjhgals no WAY can i think of my favorite hotch scene. i can barely even narrow it down, so im just gonna list a few (watch this is gonna be like 50 pages long):

ldsk.. what an iconic moment truly. i think what gets me the most ab that scene is how he's in control of the situation the entire time, even though he's not the one holding a weapon. sure things are tense and there's a lot at stake, but he's so put together and calm about the whole thing. even afterwards, it's like he wasn't even worried about it. he knew that he could take the guy out just with a profile and thats just sooo fuckingggggg ahhhhhhhhhhhh

washing the blood off of elle's walls: this is suuch a big moment for his character for us as the audience. we've seen him be nice and funny and respectful towards the team. by all means he's a good boss. but this is the first time we really see the way that he takes responsibility for everything that happens. he carries that with him, even if he doesn't show it

"everyone right now what's my worst quality" ONE OF MY FAV SCENES OF ALL TIIIIIIME real hotch kinnie moment right there. if i could force everyone i cared about to tell me what they thought of me i would absolutely do it akjdhgal absolutely toxic behavior im obsessed with it im obsessed with him

getting emily to come back to the bau. i like this partly for emily partly for hotch, but i just love that he's trying to keep the team together and he includes emily in that now. he absolutely trusts her and is serious enough about it to go to her apartment (not call! going to her physical apartment!) and get her to come back. like wow

the interrogation scene in seven seconds akjshgla i do love hotch interrogations but this one just takes the cake. the way that he goes from an almost mocking tone to just outright yelling in his face? fucking incredible. every time i watch this episode i have to rewind that scene at least 10 times. sick and twisted

im trying to avoid picking duo scenes with emily bc i worry i just like them for emily, but i genuinely love hotch in demonology. the whole thing. the way she walks into his office and he immediately is like "what's wrong" and saying "if you need anything" AND THEN PROVING IT BY CALLING THE VATICAN LATER. INSANITY. risked his job for sure on a case they weren't even sure existed.

in house on fire where he's been pushing garcia all episode and then at the end comes to say how much he appreciates everything she does. she gets a chance to tell him that she doesn't like doing that kind of stuff, and he takes it and respects it and says "i would never want to change [that you always see the good in people]" like fuuuuck i love them so much

i love when he's hurt when jj doesn't tell him things, like when she didn't say she was pregnant or didn't tell him about the job offer from the pentagon. because it's not like he blames her or feels entitled to that knowledge, he just wishes that he was able to convey just how much they all mean to him and that they really can tell him anything. it's just heartbreaking when he thinks its because of something he did that she doesnt trust him enough for that

literally any time he yells at an abusive father. especially in 6x07

after lauren and he takes it upon himself to bear the burden of the team's grief. he just feels so guilty about everything that happens that he needs to know exactly what they're going through he needs to feel that pain like its some sort of penance. when reid's mad at jj afterwards and hotch tries to take that anger for himself "if you're gonna be mad at anyone, be mad at me" bc he HATES that he had to lie to them all like that

when derek has to confront buford again and hotch won't let him do it alone. whether its him or jj or reid, he needs to make sure someone is there for him. derek's trying so so hard to keep it together and he tries to deal with that alone, which is something hotch understands, but he wants derek to know that they have his back. that they'll help him through this if he needs it

WHEN HE SAYS EXCUSE ME BEFORE PASSING OUT. INCREDIBLE

i love in angels and demons when they realize what's going on in the precinct and one of the cops grabs jj and he demands that he lets her go. they are in a building FULL of dirty cops and he stands his ground and looks them in the eye to defend her.

i love episodes where... he just kind of figures it all out by himself? mr scratch is the first one that comes to mind, but cases where he makes a lot of the connections and figures shit out. competent moments when you realize he's not just the boss bc he likes wearing a suit, he's the boss because he's good at his fucking job

#asks #aaron hotchner #this is insaaaaaane im probably missing so many moments kajhsdlgakjd #BUT THESE ARE THE ONES I COULD THINK OF #i tried to keep them in order i think but idk #endgame spoilers

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hamliet · 3 years

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Unless a Grain of Wheat Falls and It Dies...

Or, why I am pretty optimistic about the fates of Jean, Connie, Gabi, and all titanized people this chapter, which is also an excuse for me to talk about SnK’s allusions to Russian literature.

There are strikingly parallel ideas The Brothers Karamazov and Attack on Titan, as well as parallel plot points and imagery to the point where if it isn’t deliberate, it’s uncanny. (NB: before people yell at me about comparing a Japanese and Russian work, Isayama has used Russian names since the start of SnK--Shiganshina is a Russian name.) In particular, there are narrative allusions to a portion of the novel known as “The Grand Inquisitor,” which is a short story within a novel. The central thesis of “The Grand Inquisitor” is as follows:

nothing has ever been more insupportable for a man and a human society than freedom.

This parable is told within the story by Ivan Karamazov, a character whose intellectuality is his gift and his curse. He tells his brother Alyosha that the motivation for creating this parable is precisely the evils done to children (oh look, a major SnK theme) and specifically cites an example which was unfortunately taken from real life in Russia and which Isayama has an uncanny parallel:

I want to see with my own eyes the hind lie down with the lion and the victim rise up and embrace his murderer. I want to be there when every one suddenly understands what it has all been for. All the religions of the world are built on this longing, and I am a believer. But then there are the children, and what am I to do about them? That's a question I can't answer... If all must suffer to pay for the eternal harmony, what have children to do with it, tell me, please? ... if it is really true that they must share responsibility for all their fathers' crimes, such a truth is not of this world and is beyond my comprehension. Some jester will say, perhaps, that the child would have grown up and have sinned, but you see he didn't grow up, he was torn to pieces by the dogs, at eight years old...

... How are you going to atone for them? Is it possible? ... What do I care for a hell for oppressors? What good can hell do, since those children have already been tortured? ... I want to forgive. I want to embrace. I don't want more suffering. And if the sufferings of children go to swell the sum of sufferings which was necessary to pay for truth, then I protest that the truth is not worth such a price. ... too high a price is asked for harmony; it's beyond our means to pay so much to enter on it... It's not God that I don't accept, Alyosha, only I most respectfully return Him the ticket.”

The actual parable of “The Grand Inquisitor” is Ivan’s answer to Alyosha’s question about Ivan’s lines above. Ivan tells a story about how freedom is actually what dooms humanity: it is the curse. (Alyosha does not believe this.) Jesus comes back to earth and is promptly arrested, because his existence and return threaten the wellbeing of society. To be happy, one cannot be free, but one or two strong people in society should be free and bear the burden for everyone else (you can see the parallels to King Fritz/the Reisses).

Nothing is more seductive for man than his freedom of conscience, but nothing is a greater cause of suffering... all his life he loved humanity, and suddenly his eyes were opened, and he saw that it is no great moral blessedness to attain perfection and freedom, if at the same time one gains the conviction that millions of God's creatures have been created as a mockery, that they will never be capable of using their freedom...

This is SnK’s thesis: to be free, there will be suffering. It is part of human nature, and yet to not have it is to be lost. But SnK, despite its explorations of human darkness and monstrosity, has a higher view of humanity than does Ivan. SnK’s view is more alongside Alyosha’s, who says what is honestly the truth about not just the Reisses, but Eren now:

"Who are these keepers of the mystery who have taken some curse upon themselves for the happiness of mankind? .... It's simple lust of power, of filthy earthly gain, of domination—something like a universal serfdom with them as masters—that's all they stand for.”

Mikasa is akin to the Christ figure in the story, akin to Alyosha: Christ is constantly asked to speak, asked to act, and he does not until the very last moment, when he kisses the Grand Inquisitor on the lips. After the story is over, Alyosha then does likewise to Ivan.

Not to mention when Alyosha worries about Ivan’s mental state, he then answers with this:

“Listen, Alyosha,” Ivan began in a resolute voice, “if I am really able to care for the sticky little leaves I shall only love them, remembering you. It's enough for me that you are somewhere here, and I shan't lose my desire for life yet.”

A simple leaf can save a life. A leaf can save the world. A leaf, grown from a tree that started as a seed falling to the ground, dead, only to grow life from that death. Alyosha himself notes SnK’s central thesis of chapter 137 in the (very long) novel’s final pages:

...some good, sacred memory, preserved from childhood, is perhaps the best education. If a man carries many such memories with him into life, he is safe to the end of his days, and if one has only one good memory left in one's heart, even that may sometime be the means of saving us.

There’s a lot more to this, but this is the epigraph to The Brothers Karamazov, the central thesis of the entire novel:

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." -John 12:24

Suffering can grow great fruit in an individual life, and by giving something up, by even death, something beautiful can come. Through cruelty, you can find life.

This is not just a long-running theme in SnK, but a pattern in its plot. Often those who surrender then receive exactly what they had surrendered (but admittedly, not always, like Erwin).

Mikasa accepted Eren’s loss, and got him back.

Mikasa let Armin go, and got him back.

Falco gave up hope of survival, and got another chance:

Hange was going to die alone, feeling guilty for having failed her comrades, but saw everyone again, and they told her well done:

Historia gave up being free, but now we know she will be.

Levi gave up on his revenge, and then got it. Annie thought she would never see her dad again, but she did. For Mikasa, accepting that she has to kill the boy she loves coincides not just with her acceptance of her love, but with the acceptance and knowledge that he loves her:

It always comes with sacrifice, increasingly hard sacrifice, but usually the seeds that are dropped grow and bloom.

This chapter, everyone surrendered their hearts. They let their dreams fall to the ground, and I honestly think the story will allow it to plant life. Yes, the world as a whole is saved and that is enough to make thematic sense, but it works even better if the very people who were titanized this chapter also bloom again. They chose to trust Mikasa, Levi, Falco, and Pieck to finish the task.

The characters giving up their lives only to get them back make sense, and give Mikasa’s sacrifice of Eren. For Mikasa, Eren was her world, and she gave it up when she had lost everyone else. She had nothing left, and she still did it. I would hope she’d be narratively rewarded beyond just the world being saved, because Mikasa has always been motivated by her personal relationships.

Moving on from Mikasa: Connie’s mom has been kept alive and the concept of turning mindless titans back to humans was already brought up specifically in relation to her:

Connie giving up on his mother a dozenish chapters ago only to get her back now--not through sacrificing a child, but through saving the entire world--would fit the themes and patterns of SnK.

Thirdly, Gabi should not die. She’s Eren with positive development, and cannot meet the same end. Even people who are skeptical of every titan being saved seem to agree that she’ll be fine. It’s possible she’s the only one saved, but imo, not likely.

See, the only shifter characters who are going to have the option of self-sacrifice are Falco and maaaaaybe Armin. The others look like they’re about to die right here and now, never mind choosing someone to save: the mindless titans are ripping at their napes. Armin also looks to be in bad shape.

Yet Armin cannot narratively commit suicide; two chapters ago he was still screaming at himself for being useless and thinking he would be better off dead. He’s already tried the heroic sacrifice, too, so why would it work this time around? It does not work for his arc. Falco dying for Gabi was the plan without any freedom from the titan curse; it’s more powerful if ending the curse changes things, rather than forcing him to make the same choice that Reiner has always been trying to make: a heroic suicide. It could happen; it’s just not as narratively strong.

As for whether the worldbuilding rules, we know that mindless titans are not truly dead nor entirely mindless; they just don’t have freedom. Ymir’s case of getting herself back after decades shows that they aren’t quite dead or absorbed. They still have consciousness that can be awoken; Ymir described it as being in a long “nightmare.” Dina still went looking for Grisha. Connie’s mom remembered and recognized Connie, telling him “welcome home.” There is plenty of evidence that there are parts of these people that are still in there even if they are forced to become monsters (oh hey, it’s an Eren parallel; he was conscious of it and had choices while mindless titans do not, but the parallel remains).

#snk 138 #snk meta #aot 138 #aot meta #mikasa ackerman #eremika #eren jaeger #armin arlert #the brothers karamazov #gabi braun #connie springer #jean kirchstein #ymir #falco grice #galco #reiner braun #annie leonhart #levi ackerman #historia reiss

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t-lostinworlds · 3 years

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Wish You Didn’t (Peter Parker)

a/n: hello, hello. here’s another angst fic as ‘tradition’ since this is my first ever full peter parker fic so yeah, please be kind alska. this is very fluffy from the start but then it’s all downhill from there lol, hope you enjoy this one <3

pairing: peter parker x female reader trope/genre: song fic - Wish You Didn’t Love Me by Jake Miller; best friends to...well; fluff and angst summary: You love Peter Parker with all that you have, but somehow, he doesn't find that as a good thing. Despite feeling the same way, to protect you, Peter wish you didn't love him at all. warnings: wholesome cuteness at the start to set you up for heartbreak, brief dark thought from peter, and swearing. word count: 13.9k+ (i mean, what’s new)

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

"Ugh."

Peter looked up from his textbook just in time to see you drop your bag on the table and then plop yourself down on the seat across him in the library. There was a look of pure frustration on your face, his brows furrowing at the sight of the deep frown written on your lips.

"What's up?" Peter asked, twirling his pen in his fingers as he tilted his head at you in concern.

You let out a big sigh, meeting your best friend's gaze with your frown still intact. "I've got a debate coming up tomorrow," you grumbled dejectedly.

The crease between Peter's brows could only deepen at your words.

You were the best on the debate team, always at the ready to take whatever topic it was thrown at you, headstrong. You're always excited to gush to him about what could be your winning argument, what would put the opposing team at a standstill. So, to see you be somewhat upset about an upcoming debate, it was so unlike you.

Maybe because it seemed last minute but by the looks of it, Peter can't help but feel like it was more than that.

"What's it about?" he asked.

You blew out your cheeks, hand coming up to play with the notebook he had on the table before you blurted out,

"Spider-Man: Friend or Foe."

Peter cleared out his throat just as he turned the page of his book to hide it, sitting straighter in his seat, pretending to get back to reading to avoid your gaze.

He didn't tell you.

Years and years of being best friends yet you didn't have an ounce of clue that you were sitting right across the person who was going to be the topic of your debate.

Peter trusts you of course, he trusts you with his life. His reason was simple really: he just didn't want to drag you into it.

Plus, knowing how worried you can get, he just didn't want to put you through all of that, especially on top of all things college and with what's going on in your personal life. He already feels so guilty with the stress he's put May through, he can't bear to see you have that burden too.

And most importantly, Peter just wanted to protect you.

"Still don't see why you're bummed about it," he said with a shrug, gaze running over the text printed on the paper but none of it was going inside his mind.

"I got picked to defend him."

Peter's head shot up at that, eyes narrowing on your seated form as he asked, "Oh, so you think he's a foe?"

"No..." you trailed off, eyes wandering around his slightly messy table littered with notes, textbooks and books, highlighters and everything in between. "Not really."

Closing his book, Peter leaned forward, arms rested on the surface with his full attention now on you. "Care to elaborate?"

You pursed your lips, shifting in your seat as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I mean, he's probably got good intentions but I've read about the Sokovia accords you know," you started, Peter nodding to show you that he was following. "And it's a debate. The other party would do their best to make him out to be a reckless vigilante. I can already think of so many arguments that they'd throw."

"Such as?"

"That he could be doing this for fame and attention, or that he is doing good things but his drive to do them isn't exactly the best. Is it for revenge? Bragging rights or maybe something darker? Another one could be that he's young, careless and naïve. We don't know what he's really capable of superpower wise which means he can probably hurt innocent people in the future.

"Not to mention if he's on the right or wrong side of the law. Who has to pay for the collateral damages that he has caused? Is it right to let him go scot free? I could go on and on and I just," you paused, resting one arm on the table and then placing your head on it as you looked up at your best friend. "I can't really counter those things with full force because I don't really know the dude nor do I have any real, solid facts about him to back up my claim that he's completely on the good side."

"Research hasn't done you good has it?" Peter hummed, a soft smile playing on his lips as his hand came up to poke your cheek, a sweet attempt to try and rid of your frown.

You shook your head no with a deepened pout, taking his hand away from your face with your own free hand as your nimble fingers then played with his absentmindedly.

Peter's heart grew warm at the gesture.

"There's literally nothing on this spider dude aside from blog posts written by fanboys and girls gushing about how amazing he is. Which is never a great source since it's already so biased," you explained.

"What would truly help you aside from research?" he queried, eyes trained on the way you interlock your fingers together and then letting it go only for a second before interlacing them again, letting it go and repeat. It was such an adorable habit of yours, one that Peter has grown so fond of, your touch always delicate and sweet whenever you fidget with his hand.

"An interview I guess? It'd be nice to get to ask him a few questions. Like, it would help to know why I'm on his side. Get a perspective on why he does what he does, you know?" you sighed, eyes fluttering close with your frown still intact. "At least that way, I know I'm defending someone who I know is worth defending."

Peter hummed as he tore his eyes away from your intertwined hands and back on your sprawled out upper-half on the table. He pursed his lips, gaze on the dip and valleys of your beautiful but stressed face. His brain grew at odds the more he took in your deep frown—one he always hates seeing no matter the reason—as he raked his thoughts on what he could possibly do to help without having the trouble of revealing his secret to you.

"But it's genuinely impossible to talk to him—"

"You could send him an email," Peter blurted before he gave himself time to properly process his words. Hell, he didn't even get to weigh the odds and dangers of his proposition. But now that it already slipped out his mouth—

Shit. I don't think this is a good idea...

Your eyes snapped open as you gaped up at him, brows deeply furrowed as you wondered, "Spider-Man...has an email?"

Too late to back out now, Parker.

"Well, all the Avengers do, under Stark Industries to be specific," Peter said in the most nonchalant way he can muster. "Since, you know, Stark tech in their suits, modifications, upgrades, what color they want it as, etcetera, it's how they talk about those stuff."

You abruptly sat up, dropping his hand as you laid both of your palms flat on the table, eyes now twinkling with hope and excitement. "You think he'd actually see it?"

"Yeah, not many people know about it so," he trailed off with a shrug, opening his book again and flicking through the pages.

You leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze as you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. "How'd you know?"

Peter scoffed with a shake of his head, never looking away from his book given that you'd notice his lie right off the bat if he does so. "I don't know Y/N, probably because I work there," he pointed out. Well, technically it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either.

"And you're giving me it?"

He shrugged, finally meeting your gaze. "I don't see why not? As long as you don't share it around or sell it," Peter warned, shooting you playful glare.

"Yes! Oh my—you are the best," you exclaimed excitedly, jumping out of your seat and rounding the table to give him a back hug. "You're a lifesaver Pete, thank you." With one last squeeze, you pulled away and swiftly snatched your bag, feet in a rush as you treaded towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked bemusedly.

"Sending the email! Hopefully I can talk to him tonight!" you called back to him.

Peter can't help but shake his head at you with a laugh, "I haven't even given you the email!"

"Just send—"

Sssh!

"Oops, sorry," you whispered, finger over your lips as you rushed back to his side with a bright smile. "Just text me it please? Love you," you hummed, hand landing on his shoulder as you leaned down to place a swift but sweet kiss on his cheek.

The skin where your lips once were quickly turned pink, Peter's heart skipping countless beats at that four-letter word, unable to conjure any response the more he thinks about the actual weight of the warmth that's grown in his chest. He's heard you say it to him many times before of course, but despite holding a different meaning—one with friendship laced around it—it never fails to make Peter's heart soar.

Albeit wanting it to mean something else, something more, Peter knows he shouldn't. Always quick to silence his heart on screaming for more given that it wasn't ideal, for your sake. He always reminds himself that he already feels utmost content with what he has with you now, content with the love you make him feel even if it's only to an extent.

It was enough, for your sake.

Nothing but adoration coated his features as his eyes followed your every movement. His heart grew even more when you beamed at him once you pulled away, ruffling his hair playfully before hurrying out of the library, shooting him one last smile and a wave before disappearing from sight.

Peter can't wipe his own grin off his face, just the sight of your beautiful smile and your joyful eyes, easily contagious on his part. But then realization dawned on him and the curve slipped away, replaced by a frown laced with panic as he pulled out his phone to check the time.

"Shit."

He quickly gathered up his things and rushed out of the library, taking the back door out of the building to the nearest alley. Peter had his eyes glued to his screen the whole time as he quickly made a fake but believable enough email before sending it to you.

***

"Heard you were looking for me?"

You let out a yelp, jumping a few inches back as you spun around towards the direction of the voice. A hand flew over your chest the moment your eyes landed on a figure, shock befalling you as you froze. He was squatted down on the ledge of the rooftop of your apartment building, red and blue faint under the night sky. "Oh my—uh, hi," you squeaked, eyes blinking rapidly to see if what you're seeing was actually real.

The wind was blowing cold, your black pants, plain t-shirt and jean jacket doing just enough to minimize it. The sound of the streets of Manhattan was echoing below, very busy but faint due to your distance from the ground, enabling you to still hear his voice loud and clear when he spoke again.

"Hi, I'm Spider-Man," he introduced as he offered you his hand, masked eyes trained on you as you cautiously walked towards him.

"I know. I'm Y/N," you said, hesitantly reaching out to take his hand, the material of his suit rough against your palm as you shook it. You were in absolute awestruck, eyes glowing with wonder as you did nothing but gape at him.

"I know," he said and you can practically hear his smile behind the mask. He gave your hand a squeeze, the odd feeling that coursed through your bones made you tilt your head at him in mere curiosity, brows furrowed in utter confusion. Mr. Spider-Man swiftly cleared out his throat, eyes casted down as he quickly let go of your hand. "It's on your email," he added hastily.

"Oh, yeah," you muttered. A few seconds passed and you just stood there, staring at him like some star struck fan as you rubbed your hands together in both the cold and slight nerves. After a few seconds more, you finally spoke, "Wow, okay, I didn't expect for you to actually show up."

You don't know where to actually begin.

The first thought you had after sending the email was that he'd never actually see it, or if he does, he'll simply ignore it. You had been ready to wait out in the cold for a couple hours, anticipated the letdown to be frank. Yet here he was, the Spider-Man, right in front of you who, amazingly, even arrived right on time.

Spider-Man was making you nervous.

Normally, you have no problem with doing interviews. It is a form of research after all, and being on the debate team, you've done countless of it. But right now feels different.

Maybe it was the fact that he was a fucking superhero. He's someone who has actually done quite a lot and has probably seen and experienced other worldly things just as much if not more. Or maybe it's the fact that you simply don't know where this will go from here.

Will it do well that you'd get to ask proper questions and get answers that would truly help or will he get cocky and rude that this interaction would only end up being a waste of time?

Despite being famous, he was a complete mystery to everyone. The person behind the mask was wholly unknown and that itself makes you very nervous.

With a shrug, he said, "Well, wouldn't pass helping a friend."

"Are you making your voice deep?" you asked, the sound of his voice a little too...computerized for it to be normal.

He nodded. "Voice modulator, it helps keep my secret identity, well, a secret."

"Oh, yeah, figured."

You stayed quiet again after that, arms crossing over your chest as you kept your gaze steady on him, features coated with a mixture of emotions from confusion, amazement, curiosity and everything in between.

He chuckled softly, probably noticing your painfully obvious shyness. "Got questions for me?" he prodded.

You blinked a few times before frantically nodding, recalling how you specifically said in the email that you just wanted to ask a few questions. You then took out your phone, showing him the voice recording app and asked, "Is this okay?"

Spider-Man tilted his head at you with a soft hum.

"Yeah, I trust you with it."

You smiled.

The pressure and nerves turned lighter on your shoulders as you somewhat felt more comfortable...safe around him. And there's just something about the fact that he trusts you that warms your bones. It's like he's certain you only have his best intentions in mind, as if he knows you weren't in this for a selfish gain. It's really comforting in a sense, makes you feel confident that you're on the right track.

It makes you feel good about yourself.

With a soft nod, you hit record, words of curiosity slipping out of your lips soon after. "Those webs, do they come out from you?"

"No, they don't," he chuckled, taking out a vile from his wrist and then handing it to you. "That is what you call web fluid and I make them."

You gingerly took it in your hands, eyes scanning it briefly before you gave it back. "Impressive."

"Thanks. So, the fluid is like the bullets and these right here"—he showed you the black bands on his wrists with his hands open—"Are the web shooters that make me well, shoot webs. Like so," he explained as he pressed the button on his palm, the webs streaming out soon after and snatching an empty can on the far corner before it landed back in his hand.

You pursed your lips with a nod. "So, you can make weapons," you said with a certain tone in your voice that caused him to shift in his place.

"I—uh, no?" he stuttered, placing the can back on the ground loudly and in a not-so-subtle way. "I will never build a nuclear bomb if that's what you're wondering," he rushed when you narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion.

"Didn't say anything about a nuclear bomb," you pointed out with a tilt of your head.

"I-I'm, uh, I didn't—"

"I'm just messing with you," you cut him off with a soft laugh, your nerves diminishing swiftly at how he seemed to be a little shy and awkward but in an endearing way. It makes him appear more human, normal. "You're so tense, just relax."

"Yeah…okay," he breathed out. He turned around to face the city, going from crouching to fully sitting down on the ledge, hands folding on his thighs as he looked at you over his shoulder. He jerked his head, gesturing for you to come closer to which you gladly did.

You leaned on the concrete with soft hum, placing your phone beside his thigh so it was now between you both. You scanned the beautiful city with a content smile, the view never ceasing to amaze you despite seeing it too many times before. The rooftop is your best escape after all. It was nice to be far away from everything, even if it's only for a moment. Nothing but peace coats you whenever you're up here, may it be from the gentle gush of the wind or the bright shine of the moon that spreads throughout the blanket of black sky.

With a sigh, you looked up at the mask man beside you. Flustered was what you came to be when you noticed that he was already staring at your face, the white and black of his eyes looking somewhat soft, and you swear he looked almost as if he's smiling behind the mask. Warmth was quick to coat your body, a stark contrast to the cold breeze as you cleared your throat, causing him to swiftly look away.

"Sorry, I'm just a little nervous," he chuckled shyly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Really want to impress you."

You felt your cheeks heat up, a timid smile growing on your lips as you shrugged. "No need to impress anyone, let alone me," you said. "Just be yourself Spider-Man."

Oh, I truly wish I could just be myself right now Y/N—

"Okay," Peter hummed with a smile.

"Are you sure this is fine?" you asked, gesturing towards your phone in the middle of you two. "I don't want to intrude or make you feel uncomfortable by recording our conversation."

Peter's heart grew warm as his smile widened. Always considerate you are, too kind for your own good. If it was someone else, he probably would've had loads of pictures taken by now. Or maybe even a hidden camera somewhere to catch him at the wrong moment. Many of which would then be posted on the internet to spread like wildfire. Not that he minded the photos and videos but it's off putting sometimes, especially when they churn out not-so-good headlines to match.

"Promise me you won't share or sell it?" he joked, mentally cursing himself soon after once he realized it's the same words he said to you earlier in the library. Although he felt a wash of relief right away when you didn't seem to notice as you only flashed him a sweet smile in return.

"I promise," you hummed, turning to face him as you leaned sideways on the ledge. "What other superpowers do you have?"

"Enhanced abilities such as super strength, I can run fast and heal fast. Dialed up senses meaning I can see, hear, smell and feel things on another level. I'm...sticky, meaning I can climb up walls and stick to stuff like how a spider would. And oh, spider sense," Peter elaborated, watching with amusement as he saw your eyes change from awe, confusion, to impressed and back to confusion.

"Spider sense?"

"I can sense danger and threats when it's coming, like I feel a tingle."

"That's really cool," you hummed, hand rapidly lifting up as you took a fast and big swing towards his shoulder. He caught your fist in his hand way before you could even have the chance to land a punch.

Peter shook his head at you in pure amusement, giving your fist a squeeze before he let it go. "That wasn't so successful now was it?" he chuckled.

"It was worth a try. Just testing the waters to see if it would trigger your 'spidey sense' as you call it," you laughed, quoting the two words with your fingers teasingly.

"It didn't because one, anyone could see that punch from a mile away, and two, I said dangers and threats," he paused, tilting his head at you adoringly. "And you're not really a threat."

"Hey, I can be threatening," you scoffed, chin up with your chest puffed out.

Peter couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips. "I'm sure you can. I bet you can handle yourself well, especially with proper training." He took in a deep breath before saying, "But that's not really what I meant."

"What did you mean?

"That I feel safe around you."

"Oh." You blinked at him a few times before you fully broke his gaze, suddenly turning bashful as your eyes watched the busy street below where the cars and people were scurrying about in the cold New York night. Squaring your shoulders, you added, "Well, for what it's worth, I feel safer around you now too."

Peter felt his heart leap out of his chest, a proud smile erupting on his face, gaze dropping on the ground—or lack thereof—shyly as red started to dust his cheeks. "That's worth a lot," he hummed, lifting his head at the same time you did, your eyes locking immediately.

You beamed at him sweetly, shifting on your feet before letting out a breath. "Right, onto a more serious question," you paused, gesturing at the whole of him with your hand. "Why exactly are you doing this?"

"What do you think is the reason why I'm doing what I do?" he asked back, eyes trained on your face for a moment before he looked straight ahead. He can feel your orbs burning a hole on the side of his face, your brows furrowed in a way that Peter could do nothing but grin widely. He always found your thinking face endearing.

"I don't know, could be a lot of things. Could be money, glory, revenge, bragging rights, most likely fame?" you suggested.

Peter shook his head, keeping his gaze on the building across. "If I was doing this for fame, you'd think I would've shown my face by now?"

"Touché."

"But no," he breathed out, eyes now trained on his feet as he swung them aimlessly on the edge of the building. "I just want to help to the best of my abilities. I feel like I was given these powers, me, for a reason. If I'm not going to use it for a good cause then what's the point of having them?" Peter turned to face you, holding your gaze securely, even behind the mask as he continued, "If I'm not going to help out the little guy, even if I can easily do that then, who will? I can't simply watch the world fall apart when I could've done something to prevent it or provided a little bit of help, you know?"

You nodded. "With great power comes great responsibility."

Peter cracked a smile. "Yeah, exactly," he hummed, gaze dropping to stare at his gloved hands, turning it over before clasping it together with a sigh.

"How do you feel about the people who think you're not on the good side? That you have some hidden agenda?"

"I pity them if I'm being honest."

"How so?"

"I mean, if you're at a point in life where you can't accept that someone is helping simply for the sake of helping, then you've must've gone through a lot to not trust easily," Peter started, fingers fidgeting with his web shooters before he met your gaze. "We've been taught to always think that there's an incentive in all that we do. If you give, you have to receive and vice versa. But why can't we simply give and not expect something in return? People are so accustomed to the whole give and take thing that when someone just gives, it feels unfamiliar. That's why they get suspicious. They overthink that surely I'm doing this for something else when there's really no other reason than simply wanting to help.

"I also get it. It's a cruel world we're living in unfortunately where we have to keep one eye open. But I wish people would begin to accept that someone is helping to make the world a better place by simply wanting to have a safe and better place. No hidden agenda whatsoever," he finished, brown orbs catching sight of how your smile grew wider, brighter.

"You're a wise man," you said with an appreciative nod. "With a really good heart too."

"Thanks. I try my best."

"I'd say you've probably lived a life, traveled the world, seen so many new things, been to space," you trailed off, raising a brow at him in question.

"Yeah, you could say that," he chuckled.

"Are you a billionaire? Are you a prince in disguise or maybe a king? Are you a lawyer? Or maybe some kind of mythical being like Thor?" you poked.

Peter laughed, shaking his head as he shrugged. "Nah, I'm just a kid from Queens."

Shit.

Peter you fucking idiot. You absolute dumbass—

"Huh, I've got a best friend who's from Queens," you muttered, voice barely above a whisper but thanks to his enhanced hearing abilities, of course he heard it loud and clear.

Peter bit the insides of his cheek to stop his smile, even though you weren't going to see it anyway since he has a mask on. I know you do. "Come on, I want to show you something," he said aloud instead, standing up to his full height with his hand out for you to take.

You narrowed your eyes at his outstretched palm before you looked up at his masked face. "Are you going to kidnap me now and sell my organs?"

Peter threw his head back with a hearty laugh, the sound ringing in the air as he shook his head at you. "No, I'm going to show you New York from a different angle," he said, smiling widely as he leaned over closer, hand open wide. "Do you trust me?"

"You did not just quote Aladdin," you laughed, taking your phone off the ledge to stop recording before shoving it in your pocket.

Peter shrugged with a sheepish grin. "What if I did?"

You smiled widely at that, placing your hand securely in his and giving it squeeze. "Then yes, I trust you."

Peter hoisted you up on the ledge with ease, both of you now standing side by side on the edge of the building. A small squeak came out of you when you curiously looked down and saw that the ground was actually very far away, your grip on his hand tightening when all you could think of was splat. He chuckled, moving closer to you as he lifted your arm and placed it over his shoulders, your eyes snapping back up to look at his masked face.

"Is this okay?" he hummed, his arm wrapping around your waist strongly once you gave him a nod approval. "Hold tight," Peter said.

"Please don't let me go," you whispered, worry-filled eyes boring into his own while a mixture of both nervousness and excitement coated your features.

"Never."

Peter jumped.

You screamed.

The strong gush of the wind swiftly hit your face, hair whipping around as your grip around him tightened starkly. You felt your stomach churn while you swung in the air, passing one building to another, going high up and then dropping back down in a swooping motion. Your legs wrapped itself around his waist almost instinctively, all in fear of falling to your death.

"This was a bad idea!" you screeched, head buried on the crook of his neck, eyes shut tight ever since your feet left the ledge.

"Open those eyes Y/N! You're missing all the fun!" Peter laughed, giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. He felt you slowly pull your head away from his neck, lids inching open one by one until you finally gawked at the wonderful lights and blaring colors of the city in awe.

Your mouth fell agape the more you took the sight in, the city a blur but somewhat beautiful in its own unique way. You loosened your grip around his shoulder just so you could lift a hand up in the air, a satisfied hum vibrating in your chest as you felt the cold wind brush through your fingertips in the most comforting way.

That's when you let out a gleeful laugh.

Peter felt his heart melt ten times over at the beautiful sound. His cheeks were hurting from grinning ear to ear the more he took in how you're having the best time.

You looked absolutely breathtaking, the city lights casting a glow over your features, eyes holding nothing but pure bliss and wonder with that lovely, bright smile of yours to match.

The city was pretty sure, Peter loves seeing it at night whenever he does his patrol. But you, you were gorgeous, a stunning sight that he could never ever have enough of. You never do fail to make his heart stop, never fail to take his breath away, never fail to make his limbs all weak and Peter found himself falling deeper despite trying his hardest not to.

"This is so cool—no!" you shrieked, eyes wide with fear as you shot high up midair and went free falling for a few horrifying seconds before you landed back into his embrace, slotting right into his chest. Peter laughed as you quickly went to latch onto him, your grip viselike with both arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. He wrapped an arm around you securely as his other hand held tightly on the web, both of you now face to face as you continued to swing in the air.

You lifted your head up to look at him fully, faces now inches apart as you stared right into each other's eyes. Peter felt his heartbeat quicken when your orbs held a certain spark, as if you could see the actual him right behind the mask. His eyes fell on your lips, slightly parted as you gawked at him. They look really soft, very pretty, inviting.

He gulped.

At that point Peter wasn't sure if he was thankful or annoyed that he was wearing a mask. Because if he wasn't, then he would've already done something he might regret—or not—later on, especially with the consequences that would come with it.

But when you opened your mouth to start to speak, that's when Peter grew even more nervous on what could possibly be running in your thoughts.

Did you figure it out?

You didn't get a chance to say whatever it was you wanted to say when all movements stopped, Peter releasing you from his hold right as you felt your feet touch the ground.

"That was mean," you said once you gently pulled away from him. "You said you wouldn't let me go," you added, adjusting your hair and clothes before you shot him a pout.

"I'm sorry, I got a little distracted," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a shy chuckle. It was a full on accident, mind preoccupied by all things you that he unconsciously loosened his grip around your waist which in turn, made you slip out of his grasp. "I'll always catch you though."

You pursed your lips at him with a tilt of your head. "If I hadn't known better I'd say you're flirting with me, Spider-Man."

Peter felt the heat rush up to his face in a split second. "I-I'm, uh—"

"Whoa," you cut him off once your eyes landed on the gorgeous city of Manhattan but much farther away and wider as you stood on a much higher building. The tall structures that surrounded the scene seemed like toys with their size, the lights that gleamed looking like little specks of stars floating in the air with the Empire State Building right at the middle of it all. "I haven't seen it this high up before," you said, giving him a swift glance before your eyes were back on the scenery. "It's really beautiful."

"Yeah, very beautiful," Peter sighed, brown orbs never leaving your features, his heart thumping in his chest, loud and fast, each beat all for you.

He walked over to where you were stood until your arms were brushing against each other. You spared him a glance, your smile wide and soft in a way that made his heart grow warm. But then you leaned your head on his shoulder and Peter swore he might as well die from a heart attack. If it were you with the enhanced senses, then you would probably catch him out quickly with how frantic and loud each beat his heart was making.

It wasn't new to him of course. You've always been the affectionate kind. And being your best friend, he's always at the receiving end of those affections.

But tonight feels a little different.

The fact that you feel safe around him without having to see his face, when all you see is Spider-Man, it makes his heart melt. The simple fact that you're comfortable when you're near him, that you can feel that you can trust him is really reassuring in a sense. It's like your heart is already familiar with who he is despite your brain—or your eyes—telling you that the person you're standing with right now is a complete stranger.

It feels really special when looking at it in that perspective, it makes Peter feel special.

Sudden boldness coursing through his bones, Peter snaked an arm around your shoulder with a gentle squeeze in the process. It took every ounce of his superhuman strength to keep his legs upright when you inched closer to his side, a soft breath coming out of you, a satisfied one. His eyes glowed with utmost adoration as it traced your features, from the soft smile playing on your lips to the twinkle in those irises as you kept your gaze on the stunning city in front. It baffles him how his heart quickened it's pace even more, just the sight of you in pure bliss. God he was so in love with you and you don't even have an ounce of clue.

Just say it out loud, tell her.

No, I can't. For her, I can't.

"It's getting late. I should probably head back home," you hummed, lifting your head off his shoulder to look at him. Peter nodded, arm dropping to your waist as he crouched down a little, just so you could sling an arm around his shoulder. "No dropping me this time," you warned, narrowing your eyes at him teasingly.

Peter laughed with a nod. "Yes ma'am."

The swing back to your apartment building took no time.

Despite wanting to drag the night out a little longer, Peter knew he can't do that to you when your debate was tomorrow, especially among countless papers and homework he knows you need to get to. Plus, he has his own errands he needs to tend to as well. Both of you landed on the ledge smoothly with you laughing at some bad joke he made. Peter helped you down like the gentle man that he is and giving your hand one last squeeze before he lets it go.

"Thank you for tonight," you said as you turned to his figure that remained standing on the ledge. Nothing but a wide, genuine smile played on your lips as you added, "Everything of tonight."

"Don't mention it," Peter said sweetly. "I had a really great time with you—shit. I hope that doesn't sound creepy or anything but I really did enjoy tonight, you know, our conversation, getting close with you and feeling you close to me while we were swinging...okay, I'll stop talking."

You let out the sweetest giggle that Peter could do nothing but swoon, his eyes softening as he tilted his head at you with the most adoring smile he could ever have the pleasure of wearing.

"I had a great time being close with you, too," you hummed, holding his gaze for a moment before you casted your eyes at the ground shyly. Shifting from your heels and toes, you pointed towards the rooftop door, before timidly meeting his eyes again. "I should probably—"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Peter chuckled, shooting you a curt nod. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Spider-Man," you said, swiftly turning around as you went towards the door, giving him one last glance over your shoulder when you pulled it open. He gave you a wave in response, your smile widening before you slipped inside and closed the door right behind you.

Peter had the stupidest, most shit-eating grin on his face that he don't think he could ever wipe off, eyes fluttering close as he spread his arms wide. With a satisfied breath, he slowly leaned backwards, letting gravity take its course as pure euphoria coated every fiber of his being.

Never has he ever felt such joy, freedom and utmost content as Peter lets himself fall.

***

"Hello there."

Peter looked up from his notes only to be met by a set of green eyes, completely taking him by surprise since it wasn't the pair of orbs he was expecting—and really excited—to see. It confused him to the core as to why one of the most popular girls on campus was sitting down right in front of him in the library.

"Hi?" he said, word coming out more as a question than a statement as he furrowed his brows.

"Peter right? Marjorie," she introduced, hand coming across the table to which he shook gingerly.

"Yeah, that's me." Peter smiled shyly, the crease on his forehead deepening the more he raked his brain as to why she's talking to him in the first place. Of course he knows who she is, the whole school does. Hell, he can already hear the whispers of gossip echoing about all because she's sitting right at his table, or as a matter of fact, simply because she's in the room. That's how big of a deal she is.

Marjorie moved forward, both her arms resting on the table with her bust right on top of it, the low cut top she wore doing so little to hide it, cleavage right up his face. Peter was quick to look away with a clear of his throat, eyes trained on his notes as a blush coated his cheeks.

She suddenly brought two fingers under his chin, prompting him to look back up. "Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you pretty boy," she purred, a sly smirk growing on her lips when his blush deepened. She inched closer until she was fully leaning over the table and into his space, her thumb running across his chin teasingly. Peter's eyes grew wide in downright surprise and confusion, keeping his gaze locked with hers and never looking anywhere else—mostly not looking down—as he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Anyway, I heard you're really smart and I happen to find you really cute too. Not just a pretty face, aren't you Peter. So, I was wondering—"

Peter could feel you coming, hear you even, that all too familiar sound of your giddy and specifically patterned footsteps ringing in his ears. And dare he say it, he could smell your shampoo, the scent gradually growing stronger which was a clear indication that you were getting closer to the library.

He was left downright confused when you only stopped at the door, your heartbeat quickening by a mile as you stilled. Peter grew worried at the uneven sound of your breathing, all shallow and labored, the first thing that happens whenever you're in slight panic. He removed his eyes briefly from the girl across him only to see you turn on your heel in one swift motion and then completely disappearing from sight.

What was wrong? Where were you going?

"I, uh, I'm really sorry but I need to go." Peter quickly pulled his face away from Marjorie's hand, standing up from his seat all while shoving his things in his backpack. "I-It was nice meeting you," he said with a small smile before he sprinted towards the door.

He didn't see you anywhere near the building, didn't see you anywhere on campus at all.

It worried him even more when you ignored his texts and calls for the rest of the day. He knew your schedule but somehow, the moment he reached your class, you were already gone. Or maybe you hadn't even attended class in the first place. There was no other way of him knowing your whereabouts and he was growing really concerned by the second as to what had happened. So, he went with the last option he could think of on finding you quicker.

Peter slipped his mask on with a sigh, the sun already going down when he decided to try and pay you a visit in a very different set of clothes.

***

"Hi."

"What the fu—" You jumped with a yelp as you swiftly turned to face him, hand over your chest to try and calm your heart as you gaped at his masked face. "What are you doing here?"

Three times he's passed your apartment building and you weren't home. But by the fourth try, Peter's worry could only grow some more when he saw you out on the rooftop. You never stay out on the rooftop unless something was deeply bothering you.

"Wanted to know how the debate went," Peter reasoned, not the main agenda but it wasn't entirely a lie either.

"Well, my team won so that's great," you sighed dejectedly, leaning down to rest your elbow on the ledge while your chin landed on your palm.

"You don't seem enthusiastic? You still don't think I'm a friend?"

"No, no, I do now. It's just things in here." You tapped your temple, letting out another sigh when you brought your finger down to your chest, right where your heart is supposed to be and added, "Or in here rather."

Peter frowned. "What's up?"

"Who knew Spider-Man was into gossip," you teased, turning to flash him a small smile.

"Just curios," he hummed with a casual shrugged, settling himself down on the ledge, facing you this time around. "Besides, it's always better to let it out."

"It's just boy problems," you breathed out, eyes back on the orange tinted sky.

Peter felt a lump grow in his throat, heart sinking to his stomach at the thought of you thinking about another guy. He was quick to scold himself, telling his mind not to be selfish as he cleared his throat.

"Hit me."

"Well, there's this boy I like—" you stopped yourself, lips pursed as you started to fidget with your fingers, thinking face that Peter knows so well now in full play. "Actually no, I've been in love with him for as long as I can remember," you admitted.

The ache in Peter's heart grew sharper, painful and overwhelming that he felt his body run cold. His throat grew dry that he could do nothing but nod his head with a hum to tell you he's still following.

"He's amazing, greatest guy I've ever had the pleasure of knowing and he has never failed to show that he cares about me. He's always there for me, whenever he can anyway with his hectic life. And he makes me really happy." A love-struck smile grew on your lips, eyes glowing with adoration, face holding that look of love as you bask in the sunset. The golden glow made you look even more stunning, but Peter wasn't able to fully appreciate your beauty when his mind was too preoccupied with jealous thoughts. But a second later, the joy that's coated your features slowly faded off, now replaced by one with worry.

Peter tried his best to keep his tone steady. Despite having the voice modulator on, he knows it will pick up even the slightest shake and uncertainty. "But?"

"I truly can't figure out if he's acting the way he is because he feels the same way or all of it is just an act of friendship," you paused, taking in a deep breath as you shifted on your feet. "There are moments where I do think it's more but then there are moments where I see him with another girl and I start questioning it again. Like, am I reading things wrong? Am I getting too ahead of myself by thinking he could possibly feel the same way?" You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. "I don't even know how to convey my own feelings—"

"You could just tell him," Peter blurted to cut you off, not wanting to hear any more as the piercing pain in his chest could only deepen the more you talk about it. He's already got the drift anyway, no need for you to explain any further.

You turned to look at him fully with furrowed brows. "Just like that?"

Peter nodded. "You are an amazing girl Y/N," he said, nothing but utmost sincerity coating his voice. He just wants you to find someone who's going to make you happy and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. It seems like you've found exactly that, who was he to take that away from you by being bitter? Besides, Peter has long accepted that that someone is never going to be him. "Whoever this guy you're in love with, he's pretty lucky. If he doesn't see that then it's his loss. And if he doesn't feel the same way, then he's not the right guy for you because you deserve someone who'll love you unconditionally."

"You giving out relationship advice now too? A sideline if you're not saving the world?" you joked, only earning a shrug and a soft laugh from him. "But thank you." You flashed him a small but grateful smile.

"Always happy to help," he said. "I better get going, got a city to look after." Peter forced a smile, a useless tactic given that there was no way for you to see it anyway. He stood up to his full height before adding, "Congrats on the debate." He didn't even wait for a response when he swiftly jumped and swung as far away from your building as possible.

The second he landed on top of an abandoned warehouse, Peter immediately pulled his mask off. He couldn’t bear to leave it on a second longer or else he was going to suffocate. Sharp breaths escaped him as his back hit the brick wall, eyes screwed shut to stop any tear from slipping out of his burning eyes. He tried his hardest to calm his frantic heart, to minimize the pain by shoving his selfish thoughts away. He forced himself to think about you and your well-being instead, tried to convince himself that this was a good thing.

He doesn't doubt that this guy you're smitten with is a great one. The way you speak about him just screams it. Add that to you being great at judging character, then he knows you're in good hands. Despite it hurting like a ton of punches in the chest, Peter still hoped that whoever this guy is, he'll catch you in his arms openly and shower you with the truest love because you deserve nothing but. The pain would be worth it if he gets to see you be happy.

Peter knows that whoever this guy is, he would treat you rightly, give you everything you want and need in a way that Peter never could.

Slowly opening his eyes, he lets out a calming breath, mind slowly slipping at ease the more he thinks about how happy, content and safe you'll be with this guy if ever it will work out.

It hurts, unbearably, but his sliver of pain in exchange for your utmost happiness? Then Peter will gladly endure it.

***

The next day, Saturday noon, was when you finally decided to answer Peter's texts from the day before. You apologized for ghosting him, said you got preoccupied and left it at that. And then you asked if he wanted to go for a little stroll in the park, too make it up to him. Peter could never say no to you so here you were, side by side under the afternoon sun, aimlessly walking around a nearly deserted park outskirts of the main city.

"Why'd you disappear yesterday?" he asked, both his hands in his pockets while yours were looped in his. "I saw you stop by at the library but you didn't come and say hi."

You shrugged, eyes trained on the pavement as you kicked at the few rocks that were lying around. "Something came up," you simply said.

Peter can't help but feel a little sting when you didn't elaborate further. Well, he already knew what had happened but that was as Spider-Man. He was hoping you'd tell him too, as Peter Parker, your long time best friend.

"Thank you for the email by the way," you spoke again when he stayed quiet, lifting your head up to spare him a bright smile. "We wouldn't have won the debate if it wasn't for you."

"Winning the debate was all on you and that incredible brain of yours. I'm not going to take credit for that," he chuckled as he shot you a knowing look. Eyes back in front, Peter added, "But I'm always here to help. That's what best friends are for."

You hummed, letting go of his arm as you skipped ahead and treaded towards the nearest tree. "What's up with you and Marjorie?" you asked, settling down on the grass, legs straight with your right ankle over you left as you leaned back against the trunk comfortably.

"What's up with what?" Peter followed you with a deep crease between his brows, sitting right beside you soon after, mirroring your position under the shade.

"You tell me, you were almost kissing when I saw you in the library so," you trailed off, picking at the shreds of greenery, throwing it purposelessly as you still avoided his gaze. "Are you two a thing now?"

Peter shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "First off, we were not almost kissing and second, no, we're not a thing," he clarified, head turned for him to see you clearly. "I didn't even get to hear what she wanted because I immediately left," he chuckled.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. "You bailed on her in the library?"

"Sort of?" Peter scrunched his nose.

"That's a very bold move, Parker," you giggled, bumping your shoulder with his teasingly. "Most guys would've died to just be in the same room as her."

Peter let out a hearty laugh, shrugging his shoulders and said, "Well, I guess I'm not like most guys."

Marjorie was pretty, Peter won't deny that, but she could never amount to you. Even right now, when you're just sitting beside him in casual jeans and sweater, a simple but very charming smile on your lips as you looked up at the clouds, Peter was already swooning ten times over. Then comes the memory of you looking so breathtaking while he took you around the city. The stunning glow on your face as you stared at the scene in awe was still deeply engraved in Peter's mind, and he knows for a fact that that image will never leave him. Not that he was complaining anyway.

"So, how did your meeting with Spider-Man go?" he asked after a few moments of silence. A shy smile slowly grew on your lips, one that made Peter lift a brow at you in suspicion.

"He's really cool," you breathed out, your grin growing wider as you kept your gaze steadily trained at the blue sky. "He's a gentleman too, a little shy and awkward but in a cute way. Plus, very wise and smart, like lived-a-life wise and genius smart. He then took me to swing around the city which was awesome," you gushed, a dreamy glow coating your face as you met Peter's eyes. "That night is going to be a night I'll remember for the rest of my life for sure."

Peter couldn't help the smug grin that grew on his face. "If I hadn't known better I'd say you have a crush on Spider-Man," he teased, wriggling his brows at you.

"Shut up," you scoffed with a roll of your eyes.

"It's obvious. You have that dreamy look on your face when you talk about him," he poked even more, nudging you with his elbow playfully.

"No, I don't," you laughed as you pushed him away. "Besides, I've got my eyes on someone else already."

Peter's heart sunk.

He found himself playing with the sleeves of his hoodie as he avoided your gaze, trying his hardest to keep his feelings at bay before you'd notice the change in his demeanor. "Care to share with your best friend?" he offered, wondering if you're finally willing to tell him about this mystery guy.

You stayed quiet, eyes fluttering close as you rested your head on his shoulder. Peter kept his gaze steady on you, everything else silent aside from the sound of the rustling leaves of the tree. But then you let out a nervous breath, heartbeat picking up the pace in a way that made Peter grow curious as to what's on your mind.

"I love you," you blurted out of the blue, a slight shake in your voice as you kept your eyes shut.

Although confused, Peter responded, "I love you too—"

"No, Peter," you paused, shifting in your place, pulling away from him as you sat up straighter. You finally met his brown orbs, all while countless of emotions swam in yours. "I love you," you whispered but with your voice firm and laced with pure sincerity, eyes holding his with such intensity that he quickly understood.

Peter stared at you in shock.

Slowly, but surely, everything started to click inside his head. The confession you shared with Spider-Man. When you said you'd seen this guy with another girl...the library. Was that why you quickly ran out? When you saw...almost kissing. Was that the reason why your heart suddenly grew at panic?

The guy you were gushing about so fondly, the same one you said you were in love with for a long time now, the one Peter was growing jealous of...it was him.

You were talking about him, Peter Parker.

He grew at a loss for words as he gawked at you, a smile growing on his lips as he felt his heart stop its course and then beat again but with twice the pace. Peter was so happy, over the universe as pure warmth filled him up from head to toe. The mere thought that you felt the same, it was too good to be true. But it was, he can see it clear in your eyes, it was real.

You love him.

But then his mood was quick to shift, smile slipping off his face, the warmth and joy that coated his bones replaced by fear and worry in a snap of a finger.

Peter's heart stopped at the sight in front of him.

You were getting held at knifepoint by the throat, tears brimming in your eyes, more of it coating your cheeks as you clawed at the arm that trapped you in their vise hold.

"P-Peter, I love you," you whimpered, gaze locking with his, hope slipping out of your orbs, the glow they once held getting dimmer by the second in a way that made a shiver run down his spine. Then Peter heard it, that piercing cackle he knew too well, his brown eyes meeting the yellow ones that glowed right behind you.

"You won't be able to save the love of your life, Spider-Man...or should I say, Peter Parker!"

Peter shook his head frantically as he yelled out your name, running at full speed to get to you only to be met by sudden darkness, your heart wrenching scream ringing in his ears followed by an agonizing sound of a body hitting the floor. Peter's blood ran cold as he frantically called out your name, over and over and over yet nothing but eerie silence echoed back at him.

And then he looked down, eyes landing on his trembling hands, each finger, both palms coated with blood, your blood.

You were gone.

"No, no, no," Peter rushed, voice quivering, hastily getting up on his feet as he looked at you worryingly. "You can't, Y/N. You can't love me."

It's not safe for you to love me.

The look of pure pain that ghosted over you features squeezed at Peter's heart, the pit in his stomach ever growing the more he thought of what he was about to do.

You stood up shakily to be level with him, deep frown on your lips, confusion and hurt swimming in your eyes as you asked, "Why'd you seem disgusted? You could just say you don't feel the same way."

"N-No, it's not that, neither of that because—" he sucked in a sharp breath, a hand running through his hair as he stared into your eyes longingly. "I do feel the same way about you."

You screwed your eyes shut as you shook your head. "Please don't lie to make me feel better, Peter," you pleaded, the break in your voice a sharp stab at his chest.

"When have I ever lied to you?" Peter internally winced at his bold and very false claim. Nothing but guilt filled his stomach given that he lies to you almost every day. He lies to you about his whereabouts, lies to you about his reasons. Peter lies to you every goddamn day by not telling you he's Spider-Man.

"Then why are your actions speaking something else then?" You gestured towards him as a whole, at the obvious distance that he's put between you two. Your eyes were slowly glossing up as you tried to simply understand what was going on.

Peter sighed, "I just don't want to hurt you okay? I—I don't want you to lose faith on the things you love because of me."

I don't want you to lose your life because of me.

"You're not making any sense," you said frustratedly.

"I'm not qualified to be a good boyfriend, Y/N. I won't be there with you all the time. I'd probably cancel on you on so many dates," Peter paused, meeting your eyes so you could see where he was coming from. "Hell, how many times have I bailed on you right now as your best friend huh? The amount of times I've left you on the street to go home alone?"

Your frown deepened as you held his eyes with nothing but sadness. "You had things going on Peter. You're being really unfair on yourself," you said.

"But you still don't deserve to be treated like that. Not now, not ever, no matter the reason," he pushed. "You deserve all those romantic clichés you're always dreaming of, you deserve to be treated like the queen that you are. You deserve the whole world Y/N, but I won't be able to give you that." Peter's voice broke, eyes holding too many emotions as he kept his gaze steady with yours. A painful task with all the pain and betrayal that's coated your eyes, utmost hurt glaring right at him. "Being with me won't be a fairytale."

Peter wasn't ignorant to the fact that you were a hopeless romantic. The countless rom-coms you've watched together have long ago proved that. The specific look in your eyes, that certain glimmer that washes over your face whenever the couple would kiss under the snow or even in the rain, or whenever they'd go on romantic walks on the beach or simply be in each other's arm whenever it's needed, Peter has memorized it. The little changes in your face whenever you see those clichés, he knows it like the back of his hand, knows how you're craving that kind of simple but true love.

But Peter can't give you any of that. Not right now.

"But I don't want a fairytale. I want to be with you. I don't care if we don't get to do any romantic clichés, being with you would surpass all of that, being with you would be more than enough. And I'm willing to try and make it work with whatever you've got going on, even if I have to make sacrifices in the process. Why can't you see that Peter?" you argued, hands clenched into fists on your sides in mere frustration.

Peter winced, the word sacrifice too heavy for him to hear. It was too painful to even fathom what you would possibly sacrifice for him, that you would probably even sacrifice all of it for him, including your life.

"No, no, please don't," he begged. "I don't want you to sacrifice anything for me. I would never want you to sacrifice those little things that make you smile. I don't want you to sacrifice your happiness for me." Peter shook his head in utter distress, palm rubbing at his face harshly that had the tip of his nose turn red. "And what happens then if it doesn't work? You'll only get disappointed. You'll only end up hating me. By then, I would have already put you through so much hurt all for nothing. I don't want that for you, Y/N."

"How'd you know that when you haven't even tried?" you whispered, bottom lip trembling. "It's like you're not even willing to try," you whimpered.

The second Peter saw the single tear that ran down your cheek he instinctively moved closer, hands reaching out, desperate to hold you, to get to tell you it's going to be alright, to apologize over and over for all the pain he has caused. But you stopped him with the palm of your hand. He felt his heart drop the moment you took a step back, shaking your head, bottom lip desperately caught between your teeth to silence your sobs.

Peter nodded gravely, his arms falling limp by his sides, fully understanding that you don't want him near. He doesn't blame you by one bit. "It's not that I'm not willing to, I just," he paused as he let out a shaky breath. "I don't trust myself to be with you. I don't trust myself with your heart because I know I will only end up breaking it. I'll only let you down." I don't trust myself to keep you safe from harm. I'll only fail you just like how I failed them. Peter confessed, brown orbs turning glossy, all from a mixture of pain and anger. He was so angry at himself for putting you through all this hurt, you don't deserve it, not even a single ounce of it.

Yes, he can try, see where this will go and do his best to be there for you at all times. But that's not set on stone, never a clear promise because he doesn't know what his tomorrow is going to bring. He doesn't know if he's staying in the neighborhood one minute and then entering another dimension the next. Being Spider-Man, he doesn't have a schedule where Peter can organize things as a matter of priority, being Spider-Man requires its own sets of sacrifices. Peter doesn't want you to feel the burden of those sacrifices, too.

He doesn't doubt that you would be understanding enough with whatever it is he has going on but that's exactly the problem. He knows you'll take the bare minimum, you'll put him first above your wants and needs. You're just too kind that way, too big of a heart. But Peter can't have that because it's just not right; it's not what you should settle for. You deserve all the dates, all the romantic walks, all the cuddles and kisses whenever you're down, all the stress free nights where you don't have to worry about him or wait for him to come back to you safe and unharmed, all the time and effort, you deserve all of it and more.

And right now, Peter can't give you what you deserve.

"Or maybe you just don't love me in the way you say you do," you accused, voice soft but the sting in it sharp.

"That's not fucking true because I love you with every ounce of my being," he protested in low growl, desperately tugging at his hair, frustrated that he can't tell you his full reasons as to why exactly he can't be with you. "I love you too much and I want to be with you so badly—"

"Then why is that not enough?" you stressed.

"You don't understand—"

"Then make me understand!" you snapped, tears running freely down your face as you looked at him with utmost despair.

"It's not that fucking simple Y/N!" Peter saw you flinch at the sudden boom of his voice, his heart cracking at the sight. He felt everything in him gradually break the more you stared at him with nothing but anguish. He took in a deep breath to calm himself before he slips out any words that he'll only regret later on. Blowing out his cheeks, he croaked, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just—"

Peter tried again and walked closer to you, trembling hands slowly reaching in mere need to feel your skin on his to ground him back, relief washing over him when you let him. He felt his heart warm up a little when you didn't pull away from his touch. But the broken sob you let out when he cupped your face, it was too excruciating for him to hear. The agonizing grip on Peter's heart tightened as he stared right into your eyes, the same ones that once held so much joy but was now flooded with tears and grief, their gorgeous glow snuffed out, all because of him.

"I'm just trying to protect you, please, trust me on that," he whispered, not even trying to hide the brokenness in his voice anymore, not even trying to hold back his tears as Peter pressed his forehead against yours.

The little droplets fell down on your face, his tears joining yours on your already damp skin. His thumb oh so tenderly tried to wipe them all away, wishing that it was as easy as that to ease up your pain, to take away your hurt so simply, but he knows it wasn't. It wasn't an easy choice and Peter knows it never will be.

"I love you so much, don't you ever, ever doubt that. B-But we can't. I'm really sorry Y/N, but we can't be together. I-I know this hurts right now, trust me, I know, but I will only make it much worse," he choked, shaking his head when you leaned into his palm with a broken breath. But you kept your eyes open, held his gaze with utter strength and Peter saw it, saw how you still looked at him with love in your eyes. Despite it being mixed with pain, it was there, clear and honest. God he did not fucking deserve you at all.

"You deserve someone who'd treat you the way you deserve to be treated, someone who'd truly show you how it feels to be loved completely and not just the bare minimum. You deserve someone who'd be so much better than me." Peter's voice broke at the end of his sentence, eyes still holding yours just so you could see the other things he can't put into words, the things he couldn't say aloud. He was desperately, silently pleading that you would see right through him, so you could understand why he has to do this. "Maybe in another life, we could make this work. But right now I'm asking, begging you not to love me, because I don't deserve that love, I don't deserve you at all."

Peter practically saw your heart shatter into pieces even more with the simple look in your eyes. It's an absolute torture to look into them right now, to see you be so broken that he found himself wishing that it was only him in pain instead. Even though the thought hurts, he wished you didn't love him. Even though it would be painful to endure, to live in a world where his feelings aren't reciprocated, Peter wished you didn't love him at all if it meant it was going to save you from heartbreak.

Better him in pain than you, always.

Breath unsteady, you closed your eyes with a small nod. "I guess this is it," you sniffled, placing your hands over his, your touch tender as you gave it a squeeze. But then you pulled it away from your face, Peter's hands slipping off your skin as you put some much needed distance between you two.

"Y/N—"

"I don't think we can go back to the way things were after this Peter. I'm sorry I just—I don't think I can handle it." You shook your head with a soft cry, forcing yourself to look back into those brown orbs as you whispered, "I can’t take it."

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes casted on the grass with a solemn nod as he croaked out, "Then I guess this is it."

"Goodbye, Peter."

He screwed his eyes shut at the sound of your broken voice, the heartbreaking sob that followed soon after made him let out a shaky breath. The sound of your footsteps felt like gunshots, each step taken like a bullet wounding him deep but Peter didn't dare to respond, didn't even dare to look up as you briskly walked away.

Peter had to keep his head down because he didn't have enough strength, didn't have the sense of control to stay still in his place. He knows that if he does as much as look up and catch your figure, he'll run after you, full speed. He'll pull you back into his arms; he'll pour all his love into one kiss as he holds you tightly. He'll keep you in his embrace for eternity the moment he gives in into his selfish needs. But he shouldn't. He needs to let you go, he has to let you walk away, for your sake.

The farther the sound of your footsteps got, the tighter his fists grew, fingernails digging into his palms as his breathing became labored, harsh. Peter swiftly turned around and took a hard swing at the tree once you were gone, glad that no one was around to see the whole thing shake from his strength. The bark cracked under his knuckle, leaves falling around him just as his knees gave out. A sharp, broken, frustrated scream escaped his lips as he buried his face in his hands, body shaking with all the anger and pain, trembling from his heart wrenching sobs.

Peter felt like his lungs were about to give out, emotions overflowing and scorching all while feeling numb just the same. But he kept reminding himself why he's doing this for him to get by, kept telling himself that being far apart was for the best.

For your sake.

***

The wind was cold on your face as you stood out on the rooftop to escape. The night breeze was slowly drying up your tears, much to no use since it's replaced by fresh ones the second after anyway. You don't know how long you've been crying for, but it wouldn't really matter. Your tears could run out but the pain in your heart could only deepen with each ticking second.

You were worried, angry, hurt, frustrated and confused all the same, unable to tie everything together as it all just seemed like a whole jumbled mess in your head, an incomplete puzzle.

You're not naïve to think that there wasn't more to this than he's letting on. You know he was hiding bits and pieces, his words completely restrained. You saw it in his eyes how he was battling his mind. You saw how he was struggling to not slip out whatever it was he was holding back. It was painful, all of it, from seeing him so distressed to him breaking your heart with his care-filled yet hurtful words.

You get where he's coming from, about wanting you to experience it all and more and not just the bare minimum. If it was a different circumstance, the things he said would've been sweet, how he wants you to have the world, how he wants you to live all those clichés just so he could see you smile, see you be happy. But right now, his words just felt bittersweet since you lost him in the process.

All those days of imagining all the different scenarios on what it would look like, how it would feel when he admits he feels the same way, not once did you ever expect that Peter Parker saying he loves you would feel like a knife to the heart.

What hurts even more is the fact that he is so keen on shutting any chance, and sliver of hope down. He won't even try, like you're not worth any risks at all. It makes you question how important you actually are to him, makes you question if he really does love you in the way he claims he does.

"Ahem."

"Shit!" you squeaked, head snapping towards the squatted figure, eyes landing on the familiar masked man who seemed to like the element of surprise. "You need to stop doing that!"

"Sorry, should've given you a heads up," he apologized, voice sounding a little hoarse, a little...different.

"No shit," you grumbled, hastily wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your sweater before you turned back to face him. "What's brought you here?"

"Was just in the neighborhood, saw you out here and I thought I'd swing by," he said with a casual shrug, gaze steady on the building across. You did just the same as you turned back in front, fingers drumming on the concrete ledge as you stood in silence for a couple minutes, his company soothing in some odd way. But you welcome it, makes you feel more present, stopping you from slipping neck deep into the chaos that's in your head.

"You okay? You seem a bit down," he said, voice still a little gruff, eyes everywhere else but at you.

"Well, I guess you can say that," you breathed out.

"Want to talk about it?"

You bit your bottom lip when it started to tremble, a fresh batch of tears brimming in your eyes. "I told him," you whispered. "You know that friend I talked to you about? I told him I'm in love with him and he wasn't too happy with it. He pushed me away, I—" You shook your head with a shaky breath, eyes now trained on the busy street below. You swallowed the lump in your throat before adding, "He said he loved me but he pushed me away."

The superhero beside you cleared out his throat, shifting in his place until he was fully seated down, his legs hanging off the side of the building. "Did he tell you why?"

"He said he wouldn't be a good boyfriend and that he won't be there for me when I need him. He said I deserved better, which doesn't make any sense because he's already been doing that, being there for me. And I have no doubt he'd treat me rightly but he doesn't seem to believe that himself," you whimpered, harshly wiping away the tears that rushed out your eyes, not wanting to seem pathetic for a boy, not to seem weak in front of the masked hero.

"Hey, you don't have to act all tough for me," he reassured, hand coming up to give your shoulder a comforting squeeze for a short but sweet moment. "It's okay to cry, it doesn't mean you're weak."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding, flashing him a sad smile for a second before you stared back at the city. "And I get he's got a lot going on, I do too but what's painful is that he's not even willing to try and see if it would work or not. It hurts to think that I'm willing to try and make ends meet, that I would do anything to be with him, but he won't do the same for me. It makes me feel like I'm not worth fighting for, that I'm not enough."

"That's not true, Y/N," he whispered, almost as if didn't want you to hear it, your brows furrowing a little as you spared him a glance. He was already looking at you but the second your eyes landed on his face, he swiftly looked away. "What else did he say?" he asked swiftly, voice louder with a clear of his throat.

"He said he can't be with me because he didn't want to hurt me which sounds so fucking stupid since he's hurting me now. Really badly," you whimpered, bottom lip quivering as you screwed your eyes shut, taking in deep calming breaths, steadying yourself before you opened them again.

"Maybe he is just trying to look out for you," he started, head tilted to the side as he looked at you with a shaky breath. "Sometimes the best way to protect someone is to keep them at a safe distance, to not get too close to them, both physically but mostly emotionally."

You frowned, gaze landing back on the white fabric that's covered his eyes. "You do that too? Push people away?"

"I don't want to but I have to," he sighed, looking down at his hands like they were too heavy, like they hold so much weight over his life, caused him so much trouble and pain. He stared at them for a few seconds more before his fingers started to pick at his web shooters. "It's the best way to keep the people I care about safe."

"Because of all the bad guys chasing after you?"

He let out a soft chuckle as he nodded. "Yeah, you could say that."

You turned to face him fully, deep frown still etched on your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest. "Does that not get lonely?"

"It does." He nodded dejectedly, his eyes still looking elsewhere. "But it's better than seeing the ones I love get hurt because of the sole reason that they love me and that I love them just as much, if not more. Once they find out who I am, they're going to use that against me. They will always use that against me." The pain and hurt that coated his voice in his last sentence, you heard it loud and clear, makes you wonder what hardships he could've gone through to feel this way. "I think it's best to keep them away from this side of my world. I admit, it's really hard for me to stay away but I just keep reminding myself that all I'm doing is trying to keep them safe as much as I can," he paused, turning his head to finally look at you and you felt your heart stop at his next set of words.

"I'm just trying to protect them."

You felt as though that the clouds cleared up above your head, the puzzle pieces falling into place, completing itself as you slowly and finally tied everything together.

All those times he's suddenly in a rush to leave with a half-assed reason, the times where you'd catch a glimpse of the random cuts and bruises he had on his body, it all became so clear. And the night you first met Spider-Man, that odd feeling you had when he squeezed your hand the first time, it finally made sense. That same night, you felt as though you were crazy when you found yourself gravitating towards a complete stranger, a masked superhero at that. You found it ridiculous how you felt like you could trust him right off the bat. When you felt a vast feeling of being safe around him in so little time, initially you told yourself that it wasn't a good thing, that it was dangerous and you should tread carefully, but now the feeling just felt awfully familiar.

That's when you fully understood everything. The knots in your head gradually untangled itself as you gawked at him, mouth slightly agape in pure shock, tears welling up in your eyes for a different reason this time. All the things he's been through, all the pain and grief from the people he's lost, the weight that the world has put on his shoulders, it made your heartbreak. It made you feel so guilty that you weren't there for him through all that.

A new found weight settled itself in your chest because as you stared right at the mask, you saw him.

"Well, I need to go. You know, got a city to look after," he chuckled shyly as he looked away, his voice sounding starkly different from the previous encounters as it now held a sense of familiarity. "See you later."

With that, he jumped off, your eyes following the red in blue under the night sky, gradually getting smaller until disappearing from sight.

You smiled, a small one, didn't quite reach your ears but it was genuine. Your heart was still aching, mostly for him than for you, but it was also now filled with the greatest pride as you whispered, just under your breath,

"See you later, Peter Parker."

-:-:-:-:-

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percywinchester27 · 3 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-43)

Word count: 4.1K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Angst, mentions of PTSD, heartbreak, feels, fluff, spoiler warnings in the tags (it’s no biggie, but in case anyone wants to still check out ;))

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: This is one of the most crucial chapters for this series. I hope you guys like it cause it’s definitely a favourite of mine :)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Shout out to my best girl. I owe so much to you, Athina. You’re my sunflower <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

The crack in the ceiling was wider than you thought it would be, staring at you from up there, like a river and its rivulets, but disconnected from the source, dried up before reaching the sea that was its destination. Just aimlessly stuck in the middle.

There was an urgent knock on the door. Wiping your eyes, you called, “yeah.”

Madison poked her head through the door. “Can I come in?”

“Umm yeah, sure.”

You sat up in the bed.

Madison came to sit by you on the mattress. You didn’t look up at her, afraid she would see your swollen eyes.

“I know you don’t like to share your problems with anyone,” said Madison. “But I’m here. Just in case you want to talk about what’s hurting you. I haven’t seen you out and about in a while, Y/N.”

Her voice was gentle.

“I can’t tell you what’s wrong because I don’t know what it is myself.”

“Is it about Sam?”

“It is and it isn’t.” Choosing not to elaborate, you drew into yourself against the headrest. This wasn’t about Sam. This was about you being unable to understand your own damn mind and it was hurting Sam- so much. The muteness of his eyes was haunting you… and then there was Max- the sweetest little soul in this world. Every time you thought about him, you wanted to all but break down. What was wrong with you? Because something had to be wrong if you couldn’t accept that boy with all your heart.

You didn’t deserve to be a mother. This was why you could never be one.

“Come down for a bit,” said Madison, tone sympathetic. “All the guys are downstairs at Pam’s. She said something about ‘welcome to the apartment’ free pizza ritual.”

“You go on. I don’t feel like it.”

She looked like she wanted to insist, then decided against it. “If you change your mind, don’t forget your sweater. It’s a chilly evening.”

After Madison left, you couldn’t bear to lay in the bed. The crack in the ceiling was twisting your heart. Outside, the sky was darkening quickly, earlier than it should have.

Walking into the kitchen, you filled the coffee pot with water. Just as you were about to place it onto the machine, the doorbell rang. You knew in your gut who it was, just the way one knows what's coming when the sea starts to recede.

Sam looked distraught. Gone was the carefully concealed blank look from the day before. Today, he had abandoned all attempts to hide his emotions. He wasn’t dressed for work either. Just jeans and plaid, with a bunch of papers rolled in his hands.

Without a word you stepped aside to let him in. Sam sat down on the sofa, looking about himself as if hoping that someone or something would save him from what was about to happen. Again, you simply knew.

“I messed up bigtime, didn’t I?” You whispered, taking a seat opposite him.

Sam, who was decidedly staring at the floor, shook his head. “You didn’t mess up anything, Y/N. You-” His voice broke and he visibly made an effort to speak again. “You tried harder than anyone should’ve had to… and God, this is going to kill me.”

“What is…?”

Sam braced himself. “I love you, Y/N. You have to know that. I would gamble my life away without a second’s thought if it meant I could spend even some of it with you as truly yours. To have you in my arms and not think about whether it’s the right thing to do. But I can’t gamble away Max’s life like that. He’s suffered so much already. I can’t have him start believing with all his heart that you’ll be his mother only for you to compromise. Worse, if a few months down the line, you decide you don’t want to do this, he’ll be shattered. I can’t do that to my boy.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek.

“I know you love him. I’d have to be blind not to see that. But I don’t know if you can love him without a doubt in your mind. I don’t want you to have to adjust into a mother’s role for him, if you aren’t ready. I know you- the guilt of it won’t let you breathe. And asking you to do that just so I could live out my fantasy of a perfect family… won’t be fair to you or Max.”

He flattened the papers in his hand on the table before you. One word glared out of it, strong and bold- Divorce.

He took a ragged breath, then spoke in a fragile voice. “It’s still your decision to make- whether you want to sign these papers or not. If you do, we’ll walk out of your life this time. I haven’t committed beyond this semester to Stanford- another month. Take that time and decide what you really want.”

None of it was surprising you. Not his words, not his actions. Just like that tsunami, you had seen this coming the moment you didn’t respond to Max’s call. Still, the words weren’t sinking in. They were floating in the space between you and him.

“I promised to wait for you… I promised to give you all the time you needed,” he whispered. “That was a selfish promise. There’s nothing else for me now except that wait… but I can’t drag Max along.”

You mutely watched him draw out a pen from his pocket and start flipping through the pages, signing them as he went. The hard matt shadow of the pen scratched at the illusion like quality of the situation. The on and off gold glint pushed at the awareness further. You knew that pen. You knew that it was partly made up of obsidian and you knew the inscription on it- It’s not time to worry yet - Atticus Finch

Sam closed the papers shut and put the pen back in his pocket. You saw him swallow hard and raise one hand towards you in yearning, longing, before rigidly bringing it back to himself. He might have said something more, softly, eyes roving your face, but the words didn’t register, just the utter helplessness in his voice. With one last look, he got up from the chair and left.

The door banging on the frame made you flinch.

It’s not time to worry yet.

We’ll walk out of your life this time.

Drops were beginning to fall on the balcony outside, getting bigger, hitting faster, water dripping down on your carpet through the open window. You sat there, looking at the papers in front of you, not making a move to close the shutters.

The shrill ringing of your phone made you jump up once more. Mechanically, still in a daze, you answered the call.

“Hello. Is this Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?”

A pause.

“Hello?”

You answered. “Yes, speaking.”

The voice said, more relaxed. “I’m Melanie Hawthorn from Acton Griswold. This is regarding your application for the position of a paralegal at our firm. We are very pleased to offer you the said position. Please get in touch with the HR to set up a meeting to discuss the terms of employment. An email with the details is being sent to you shortly. Will you be able to provide me with a tentative date?”

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Uh… anytime this week is okay.”

“Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

*Click*

It’s not time to worry yet.

We’ll walk out of your life this time.

Next second, you grabbed the papers on the table and then you were running, not caring that you were dressed only in your shorts and camisole, not caring that you were bare foot or that it was raining outside- only that with each passing second, Sam was walking away from you.

How many times had you done this to him? Ran away as he watched you go. Once? Twice? Thrice? And yet, here you were unable to bear a single step he took in the other direction. For once in your life you weren’t running away, you were running towards.

Taking the steps two at a time, you ran, almost tripping on the last one, as you passed the safety of the awning and into the thundering rain, your feet slipped on the shabby pavers of the meadow. From here, you could see Sam, slowly walking past the statue, his shoulders were slumped, feet dragging, soaked through and through.

Splashing water with each step, you closed the distance between the two of you. Sam turned around at the last minute. His face made you falter. That was the look of a man who was being burned alive at the stakes. He looked at you and broke down- not tears, but sobs wracking his body. Sam collapsed on the parapet of the statue. The only other time you had seen him lose it completely was in the hospital, telling his brother how he couldn’t face you and tell you that you could never be a mother again. Only you could bring him down on his knees like this- then and now.

Sam put his face in his hands, sobbing into them- lost and broken.

You stood over him, motionless.

“I know why you did it.” The words fell off your lips like cracks of thunder. Maybe low and muted, but with the same devastating power. “I know why you really drafted the papers.”

In your room upstairs, Sam’s defeated eyes had narrated a different story than his words. The words made sense, his reasoning perfectly logical- he wanted to protect his son from a woman who wouldn’t commit to being his mother. Except, you knew Sam. In the past few months, you had re-learned the workings of his soul. He would only pull something this drastic if he firmly believed it to be the only way to do right by both Max and you. No matter if it was at his own expense. The divorce papers weren’t an ultimatum, or a deadline as they appeared to be. They were Sam’s way of offering you an out from this situation with your dignity intact. He was shifting the blame of the failed marriage on himself, ready to face Max’s disappointment and anger, only so you wouldn’t have to live through the guilt of your choice.

Max would see it in black and white. His father had decided to divorce you, just like his father had forbidden him from seeing you after the play-date. Max would yell and curse and be livid, but just like before, he would accept Sam’s decision and eventually forgive him for it. But if Max found out that you were the one unwilling to become his mother, he might never forgive you. With his last act, Sam was sparing you the pain of betraying Max, the pain of seeing the accusal in his eyes. How much exactly did Sam love you? Because this amount of love was unfathomable. It should’ve destroyed his mind!

No one should have to make such a sheer sacrifice for being the good one. No one should have to suffer so much, so quietly. Especially not Sam.

“All these years that we’ve known each other, you’ve never let me thank you,” you said, only determination keeping your voice steady. “Not when you opened doors, or pulled chairs in restaurants, not when you held my hair as I threw up in the toilet at three in the morning because of sickness. You used to tell me we were married and it was your job to look after your wife. You said you weren’t doing me a favour and I stopped thanking you.”

Sam looked up finally, the rain making his tears invisible, but not his anguish.

“Then I saw you here… I can’t possibly tell you how it felt, seeing you in the class. Bumping into you in the corridor and knowing you still use the cologne I gifted, knowing you remembered the taste of my cookies. I was terrified of returning your coat back to you, scared that you’d outright banish me from your life. You brought me home when I was drunk, you pulled me out of the water when I could’ve died and held me through a night of torture. And you didn’t let me thank you for it. It wasn’t a favour, you said. It was your job.”

“But you did me one favour today, Sam Winchester,” you said, getting down on your knee on the coarse ground and holding up the drenched papers to him. “By giving me this, you did me the biggest favour of my life.”

Sam’s face was a mask of shock. You reached out and placed your hand against his cheek. “You showed me exactly what I stood to lose.”

The rain was falling mercilessly now, hitting your skin like shards, running down your bare arms in rivulets.

“Chirp wasn’t the name of our baby… it was the name we gave to our hopes and dreams of the future. I felt that dream die inside me, Sam. I felt him go… and I swear if it wasn’t for you, I would have died that day with him. And that fear… of ever feeling like that again, it kept me under for so long. I was barely there… you kept more of me alive than I did, myself, through that cologne, the pictures… that pen! And you gave me the biggest joy I’ve ever known- that little boy.”

Silent tears glided down Sam’s eyes, still indistinct in the rain. He looked so vulnerable, as if the smallest of winds could shatter him.

“I was scared that I might lose him, Sam. Just like… our first baby. I couldn’t save him, and if anything ever happened to…” you shook your head, refusing to complete that thought. “I would die. Not even you could bring me back then…” Taking in a deep breath you continued. “By handing me the divorce papers, you just reminded me that if you leave with him, I can never lay a claim on Max. I’ll lose him either way… I’ll lose my little Chirp all over again, and I can’t do that. He’s my boy.”

Taking his face in both your hands, you gave him a little shake. “Max is my boy, you understand? He’s my little Chirp.”

“You… You’ll come back?” Sam spoke at last. The disbelief in his voice was painful.

Letting go off his face, you grabbed the wet papers in both your hands and tore them into four pieces. “I’ve been thinking I was jinxed all these years. I was so convinced that I never let your love sway me. But now I can see it’s not true. Because no one who’s jinxed would find someone like you! And I found you twice. I don’t need a damn month to figure this out. I know what I want. I want you! I want us.”

He shook his head, refusing to believe. Afraid to hope again.

You grabbed his face, forced him to look at you again. “I just got a call that I’ve been hired at Acton Griswold. You know what’s the first thing I wanted to do? The only thing I wanted to do? Was to run to you! Just like seven years ago, barefoot in the rain. You make me feel eighteen again.”

You looked him deep in his anguished eyes. “I love you, Sam Winchester. I don’t know how you can’t see that. It’s in the whisper of my every breath, the subtext to my every word. And we… we’re still a lot like us, aren’t we? No, we’re better. We have Max now. We’re a family. Please… Please believe me.”

Sam slipped on the ground next you, on his knees and pulled you to him, crushing your lips against his. His strong arms corded against your back, slipping and sliding against the wet silk of your tank top. It had turned transparent, clinging to your body.

“I believe you,” he whispered desperately against your lips. “God, I believe you.”

You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, kissing him like your life depended on it, the worry, uncertainties, ebbing away from your body, a fierce, wild joy replacing it.

“Say it, say it again, please,” Sam begged in a coarse, broken voice, but it wasn't hopeless anymore. It was ringing with the same ferocity that you felt.

“I love you, Sam. I love you so much.”

He made an animalistic sound and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you impossibly close, his lips fast and urgent against yours.

Someone whistled loudly from behind.

Breaking off the kiss, you turned in the circle of Sam’s arms to see Kevin standing under the stilted awning of the building with a shit eating grin on his face. Others were slowly coming out from Pam’s apartment.

You ignored him, threw your arms around Sam once more and began kissing him. He didn’t let go of you either… not until a shiver ripped through your body. As the high of the adrenalin came down, you suddenly began to feel the cold. Sam tightened his grip on you.

“Oye! Get a room, you two!” Meg shouted. “C’mon, now! Keep it PG 13.”

“Don’t let go,” you pleaded.

“Not a chance,” said Sam. He put a hand under your knee and in one fluid motion hefted you into his arms, not breaking off the kiss.

More cat calls and hoots followed in the background. You could hear Jack howling with laughter, as Sam walked back towards the building carrying you.

“Oh, enough staring at those two,” Kevin said. “C’mon, get out there in the rain. You know the rules. Everyone who loses the bet has to get wet. That’s all of you bitches except Maddie and me. Out now!”

He’d won the bet after all.

Pam blew a raspberry at him and climbed down the steps just as Sam passed her.

“Ah, the sweet, sweet taste of vindication,” Kevin gloated.

“Ah, the acrid, acrid stench of snobbery,” Meg hissed, following Pam. “Don’t go back to the flat anytime soon, Maddie.”

You were hardly paying any attention, as Sam walked you up all the way to your flat. Once inside, you barely made it to the bathroom, before he had you pinned against the wall, lips still urgent, hands roving under your wet camisole. The sight of his closed eyes, the wetness of the rain and tears still clinging to his lashes was like a slow fire inside of you, burning low but not easing- the sweetest of torments. His fingers found the buckle of your bra and you felt him fumble with it, then hesitate.

You grabbed his hand behind your back and held it there. “Don’t stop. Please…”

“Y/N…” He groaned, the need acute to the point of a primal hunger in his eyes. You could see yourself in his lust-blown, dark irises- barely recognising that girl or the hoarseness of her voice as she begged. “Please.”

That was all Sam needed as he grabbed the edge of your top and tore it apart into shreds. At the same time you pushed back his shirt, and then tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Sam didn’t waste another minute before pulling you back into a kiss. He tasted like the wildness of the rain and the bitterness of coffee.

You reached out behind you to unbuckle the bra and let it fall to the ground. Sam shuddered when you leaned into him next. skin touching to skin- wet and slick. “Y/N…”

He hoisted you on top of the bathroom counter. His hand slid down from your shoulders, over your breast, the thumb skating right across it and then further below into your shorts. You looked at him in the moment- a short second, an eternity- saying everything you ever wanted to without a word, listening to everything he wanted to say without a word.

“I need you…” you whispered, head rolling back, chest heaving with loud, ragged breaths, as his pants fell to the floor in a heap of wet denim. He hooked his thumb into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, and tugged them down your legs in one motion.

He put his forehead against yours, catching a breath, bracing himself. This was it. Moulding his lips against your, and biting down on the bottom lip, he pushed inside.

A whimper left your lips, the corners of your eyes starting to sting again. He was as essential to your existence as breath itself was to living.

It was hard and fast and desperate- your teeth scraping against his ears and jaw, fingers digging into his back, and biting his shoulders to muffle the screams. You didn’t say anything coherent except wanting him to go harder and faster… and being ecstatic when he did. You lost count of the number of times you called out his name- in yearning, in commands, in pleas and in prayers till you were both a tangle of bodies on the floor of the bathroom, coming down from the high together.

The rain splattered on the glass panes and you held on to him… letting go now would be a sin. You didn’t know how long you stayed there. Eventually Sam lifted you again, walking you into the shower. Still together, the shower barely lasted five minutes. Once on the bed, he would have let you rest, but you didn’t have it in you to be separated from him now. It would cause physical pain.

So, you drew him back upon yourself. This time it was slow… lazy, languid... relearning the patterns and shapes of each other. You memorised the exact curve of his lips, the hardness of his abs, running your fingers through the soft smattering of hair on his chest.

As for Sam? He was treating you like a mirage that could disappear any given instance now. It broke your heart that the slight wildness in his eyes wasn’t giving way to his usual calmth. The vulnerability of his every move made you want to weld yourself to him, body and soul, so he would never feel this way again- as if he was living on borrowed luck, that anytime now this could be snatched away from him.

You must have told him you loved him several times in the course of the hour, and yet, each time you said it, you felt his heart jump up in his chest under your fingers. Sam. Your Sam.

It must’ve been hours later, when you heard the main door of the flat open and close. Your room was submerged in darkness, neither of you willing to move away first.

With a sigh, you raised yourself on your elbow to turn on the light, it bathed Sam in a warm glow. Bending down, you kissed the tip of his pointed nose, and then his eyelids, one by one.

“Max?” You said.

Sam cleared his throat before speaking. “He’s staying over at Jody’s.”

You frowned.

“I wasn’t expecting to be in any shape to look after him tonight,” he explained. “It would’ve been me and a bottle of scotch. Couldn’t have him see that.”

You kissed the hollow under his neck this time. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he promised.

“Don’t tell Max. I want to be the one to tell him.”

His galaxy eyes melted. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

“So you can stay tonight?”

“If you want me to.”

It occurred to you that this wasn’t a one time thing. This was the rest of your life now. Sam was your husband. You had the right to keep him here with you for today and everyday. No more sneaking around, no more doubts. Just you, him and your little boy.

A surprised giggle bubbled up your lips and soon turned out into full laughter, tears rolling along the sides of your eyes.

“Something funny, Mrs. Winchester?” Sam asked, amused, his eyes soft.

You shook your head, burying your face in his chest. “Nothing. I love you.”

His heart skipped a beat again. You felt lips ghost over your hair.

“I love you, too, Darling. More than life.”

*****************************

A/N 2: Sometimes one hard push is necessary to make people realise just what they might lose out on. I’ve edited and re-edited this chapter so many times, I’ve lost the count. It was the make it or break it chapter. It had to be worth it.

Hope you guys liked it as much I do <3

Please do let me know if you liked this part. Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.

Adding the Gif credit here cause it won’t let me link it before the cut

Only two more chapters to go! :’)

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ALLU taglist:

@gabavaldman @im-a-light-child @cosicas-cuquis @bllyjianne @hoboal87 @i-is-for-inspiring @daughterleftbehind @wackiekebab @mylovelydame21 @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @superbadassnatural @babypink224221 @badlittlehabit99 @sams-bubblegum-bitch @fandomoverdose666 @superstarmarvel @atc74 @aiofheavenandhell @rebel-author-chick @death-unbecomes-you @cookiechipdough @kbl1313 @linki-locks11 @deaan @sunflowers-n-rocknroll @stoneyggirl @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @niyahgray @traceyaudette @blueaura @awfulmoons @waterlily502 @spn-ficfanatic @thestralsaregood @shesnotmaria @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @fandomtrash88 @binxy @vulgar-library @deanwanddamons @beachy2014 @valsworldofcreativity @samfreakingwinchster

#Sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester reader insert #sam x reader fluff #sam fluff #lawyer!sam #professor!sam #lawyer!sam x reader #professor!sam x reader #dad!sam #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #anawrites #anawritesspn #Ana writes ALLU #allu 43 #spn smut #or at least as close as I'll ever get to it #q

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