#That guy crawled his way into my dark hollow heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

happy-hermit · 2 years ago

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HI GUYS I'M BACK ON MY BULLSHIT <333

Have some Scar angst featuring Clockers comfort :) Enjoy!!!

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Scar kills Cleo.

He doesn’t mean to do it, doesn’t mean to break the rules, doesn’t mean to hurt his own ally. It’s still a shock that he even has allies — it is still something that hits him all over again, every time he opens his eyes and they're still there.

But Scar kills Cleo. They won’t be there for much longer.

“You dropped it right on her head,” Bdubs says, solemn, and Scar feels sick. His heart is skipping in his chest, his breath is frozen in his lungs. His hands feel like they’re being assaulted by pins and needles.

He’s made a mistake. He’d known, of course, that it was only a matter of time, but. Well. Sometimes he likes to pretend.

He can’t anymore. Not now. Not after that.

And Cleo didn’t even seem all that mad, is the thing. She hadn’t yelled, hadn’t even frowned, really. She’d been quiet though, at first. And she’d laughed after, but— But people could laugh and still be mad, couldn’t they? And Bdubs had seemed pretty disappointed.

Scar can’t do anything right. If they hadn’t known that before, they certainly did now.

Scar kills Cleo.

That night, he packs his bags.

It’s not at all hard to sneak out, which is a fun change of pace. Cleo slept like, well, like the dead, and Bdubs had fully mastered the art of sleeping at this point. Nothing short of breaking the bed was going to get him out of it. So Scar just… walks by. He’s got what little possessions he’s collected stored safely in his bag, and the rest he’s left for them. They’ll make better use of things than he will, he’s sure.

The night is clear and quiet, the same stars as always hanging silently in the sky and watching him while he walks. Those little twinkling lights have been witnesses to every misstep and mistake he’s ever made. He was a bit surprised that one of them hasn’t yet taken it upon themselves to fall out of the sky and end his misery. Though he supposed that might’ve been the moon's true motive. Maybe it had been rude to avoid the inevitable crash.

Tonight, though, the stars stay where they are, and Scar does not.

He walks by the Bad Boys burned mansion, the earth around it scorched and bare. He looks up towards the roof for a while, thinking. He almost wants to go up there and find Grian, because at least Grian makes sense. At least Grian hurts him in a way that he is used to.

Selfish, he thinks, shaking his head and turning away. Grian never meant it; he isn’t cruel. Scar just tends to awaken in people the need to get away, is all. Like how all anyone ever thinks about when carrying a heavy object is a place to put it down.

Scar wanders for a bit, dodging mobs as he stumbles through the darkness, until finally the sun starts to rise. Scar drops his bag down at the bottom of a hill and sits down heavily beside it, as dim light transitions to golden rays. He’s not going to build on a mountain, he resolves. Not this time. Not when he’s trying not to be noticed.

He eats a quick breakfast of steak and bread, heavy silence sitting like a cloak on his shoulders, and then he starts carving a hole into the hill. He spends the rest of the day like that, hollowing out a home as hollow as he feels, ignoring the buzz of his communicator in his pocket. Either someone was trying to get a hold of him, or no one had noticed at all. He’s not sure which he would prefer, and so he doesn’t look. He doesn’t look, and he tries his best not to think about it, either. He builds a new base of stone and brick into the hillside, and then he shuts the door behind him and lies in bed and doesn’t sleep.

There is the steady and faint noise of water leaking through the roof across the room, single drops of water falling in intervals into the bucket he’d placed haphazardly before crawling under the covers. There is the crackling of the oven a few feet away, still warm from the steak he’d cooked earlier. There is the quiet howling of wind from outside, as it tugged on grass and trees and at his door. He can hear himself breathing, can hear it hitch as soon as he becomes aware of it.

He’s cold, and he shivers, tugging the blanket up further as he stares at the ceiling. There’s moisture stinging at the corners of his eyes, and there is a lump in his throat, and even though there is no one around to hear he still can’t quite break the habit of crying silently.

He wakes up to birds singing, and dried tear tracks on his cheeks. Scar sits in bed for a moment, lost, and then he grabs his hoe and wheat seeds, and he goes outside.

There are a few pigs on his hill that he spends an hour herding into a pen, and then he finds a good stretch of land and gets to work tilling it. By the time the seeds are planted and watered, it’s mid afternoon, and Scar jumps straight into cutting down a few trees for wood. His muscles are sore and straining, but still he swings the axe. As evidenced by the unintended brutal murder of his pretend mother, he really doesn’t know when to quit.

At least now with no one else around, there is no one else to hurt. It’s just him. Which is fine, really, because he’s done it before. He knows how it goes. This is how they play the game.

So Scar is not expecting anyone to come after him. Which is probably why he almost takes Bdubs’ head off with his axe when he’s suddenly just there.

“You’ll clear out the forest at this rate,” Bdubs says casually, very close behind him, and Scar yelps in alarm and spins around mid swing. “Maybe you— Hey, watch it!”

It’s only thanks to Bdubs short stature and quick duck that his head remains on his shoulders, and in the aftermath they stare at each other with wide eyes and heaving lungs.

“Bdubs,” Scar manages, strangled and high-pitched, and then he rapidly clears his throat, pasting on a smile. “You— I didn’t see you there! Not that—”

“If you’re going to make a short joke I will stab you on the spot,” Bdubs grumbles, and he tears the axe out of Scar’s slack hands, throwing it to the ground a few feet away. “I’ve been out all night looking for you, I hope you appreciate the lack of sleep I’ve had to endure.”

Scar stares, awkward smile slipping a little as his mind sluggishly attempts to comprehend the conversation.

“Why?” Scar asks eventually, interrupting the other’s unintelligible grumbling as he smooths his clothes. “Did I forget something? Or— I didn’t take something of yours by accident, did I?”

Bdubs goes still and looks up, brow furrowed slightly and eyes unreadable. “Did you— You forgot to say goodbye, for one thing!” Bdubs crosses his arms and glares at him. “And didn’t tell us where you were going! And didn’t answer our messages! You— You disappeared!”

He seems angry, or at least frustrated, and Scar’s heart beats a little faster. He doesn’t— He’s confused, is all. He’s not sure what this is about.

“Oh! Well, I thought— I thought it would just be easier, you know?” Scar says, and shrugs like it's no big deal, like his chest isn’t constricting. “So you didn’t have to say it.”

“Oh what are you blabbering about?” Bdubs scowls, but can’t quite hide his confusion. “So we didn’t have to say what?”

“Just— You know.” Scar looks away in defeat, because now Bdubs is gonna make him say it. “So you didn’t have to ask me to leave.”

“...What?”

Bdubs says it like he has no idea what Scar is talking about, like he’s talking nonsense, and something desperate wells up in his stomach and crawls into his throat. He has to make him understand.

“Look, I’m— I may be clueless, but I can still read a room,” Scar says, quick and shaky and filled with false bravado. He tries for a smile, and it sits on his face like a wound would. “Trust me, I know when people have had enough. Just— Let me leave with my dignity this time?” Scar chuckles, like it’s a joke, but it’s a sad little sound, and he can’t look Bdubs in the eyes. “You don’t have to… ask. It’s fine, really. It’s better for everyone like this.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Scar almost thinks Bdubs already left. But—

“You’re right,” Bdubs says, and something about his voice is strange. Strained and soft. The words land like a blow, but Bdubs isn’t finished. He comes up next to him and touches his arm. Scar closes his eyes.

“You are clueless,” Bdubs says, still in that gentle, choked tone, and Scar gasps as he’s pulled into a hug.

His hands hover aimlessly over Bdubs’ back for a few long seconds, tears stinging at the back of his wide eyes. His heart is beating fast, and his chest aches, and for some reason, Bdubs is hugging him. Tightly, like he’s not planning on letting go. Like it’s not a goodbye.

“I killed Cleo,” Scar chokes out, because his throat hurts and he doesn’t really want to say it, but he has to make sure Bdubs knows, even though there’s no way he doesn’t.

“Yeah, you did,” Bdubs replies easily, and squeezes Scar’s middle pointedly. “She thought it was funny. She’s not mad.” He pauses, and continues a little softer. “We didn’t want you to leave. We don’t.”

Scar lets his hands rest carefully against the other’s back, like he’s not sure he’s allowed. “Please don’t be lying,” he says.

“You called me out for being the Boogey, Scar,” Bdubs says, a bit of amusement returning to his voice. “You know what I sound like when I’m lying.”

“You’re bad at it,” Scar says weakly.

“Exactly. So are you.”

“We make a good team?”

“We do,” Bdubs says, and finally pulls away. His eyes are a little puffy, and Scar blinks in shock. Bdubs grins. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

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Their clock tower raises high in the distance, and as they approach, Scar spots Cleo standing outside of it, tapping their foot and checking her communicator. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until Bdubs calls his name in question.

“She’s really not mad,” Bdubs insists, tugging at his wrist lightly. “Well, maybe that you left, but not about the killing thing.”

“I don’t know, Bdubs,” Scar says, nerves making his voice waver.

“That’s because I’m in charge of knowing right now,” Bdubs scolds, and Scar finally relents and starts walking again. “Just don’t run away again.”

About halfway up the mountain, Cleo spots them, and her shoulders sag. In relief?

“It’s past your curfew!” Cleo calls out, and has their hands on their hips when they finally make it to where’s she’s standing. She raises an eyebrow at Scar, who shrinks a little beneath their gaze. “Where have you been?”

It’s like they’re upset that he left, that he wasn’t there, that he was gone, and Scar— Doesn’t know how to deal with that. It is so far outside the realm of his recent experiences that he’s struck speechless, for a moment. Bdubs seems to take pity on him.

“He thought you were mad,” Bdubs says, nudging Scar forwards a little.

“So you left?” Cleo asks, as if that’s not the rational conclusion that Scar thinks it is, and he swallows hard, avoiding their eyes.

“Well, I thought—“ He wrings his hands into his shirt, heart pounding. “I thought you… wanted me to leave?”

Cleo’s face falls, almost imperceptibly, and Scar winces.

“Why would I want that, Scar?”

His mouth is dry, and right now he really does feel like a little kid in trouble with his parents.

“I killed you,” Scar says, quiet and ashamed. He’s studying the ground beneath his feet with rapt attention. There is dog fur stuck in the cracks.

“Yeah.” Cleo shrugs, and Scar glances up in bewilderment. “And Grian, and Jimmy. It was amazing, actually.”

Scar stares, and something in his face must give him away, because Cleo’s softens.

“I told you I was proud,” Cleo says. “I did mean it, you know.”

“But—“

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Cleo interrupts, voice suddenly commanding, and yet still gentle. It’s something only she can pull off. “Why is— Your first thought is that we want you gone. Why?”

“Because no one wants me around,” Scar snaps, finally fed up, some overwhelming and burning emotion building in his chest as his voice raises. “You know I— All I ever try to do is make allies, but no one ever— Only one person has ever stuck by me, but it was never because he wanted to. He had to.” Scar makes a grand sweeping gesture, manic smile breaking under his trailing tears. He lets out a shaky laugh that’s more of a sob, and he lets his hands fall back to his sides.

“Everyone leaves,” Scar says eventually, after a few seconds of oppressive silence. “And maybe it’s— maybe I’m made for it, but I don’t—“ His voice breaks, and he closes his eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”

It’s not something he’s ever admitted out loud. It’s not something he ever really felt like he deserved to feel.

“Then stay,” Cleo says, and her hand appears on his wrist, cold and careful. “We have a choice, and we want you here.”

“What’s a little death between family, anyway?” Bdubs pipes up, and takes Scar’s other hand. “Just brings us closer.”

Scar doesn’t realize he’s crying again until Cleo lets out a soft sound.

“Oh, Scar…”

Scar lets out a watery laugh, wiping fruitlessly at his eyes. “I don’t want to leave,” he says, small and tired. “I want to stay.”

Cleo pulls him against their chest, and he buries his face in their shoulder and his hands into their clothes, and his shoulders shake.

“Good,” Cleo says, sounding a little shaky herself, as Bdubs tucks up against his side and sighs a little in relief. “So do I.”

The sun has long since set, and Scar can feel his eyelids drooping as his emotions finally catch up with him. He feels hollow, but in a good way. Like there’s finally room for something better to take its place.

They’re still hugging, still standing in the dark in front of their cobbled-together clock tower, and somehow, Bdbubs starts snoring. He’s fallen asleep, leaning against Scar’s side, still standing up.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Cleo says, laughing quietly, and Scar cracks a genuine smile for the first time in a while. He carefully feta goes himself from Cleo and scoops Bdubs up in one smooth motion, heading for the door. It’s missing something; maybe a doormat.

When he turns to check on Cleo, she’s still standing where he left them, but she’s staring at the Bad Boys mansion with a stony face and clenched fists. It’s almost like she’s angry at one of them, for something. Scar can't think of anything recent that would’ve justified her anger now.

“Cleo?” Scar calls, uncertain, and they jolt a bit, turning to look at him. “Are you coming?”

With one last glance at the mansion, she sighs and follows him inside, ruffling his hair on her way by.

“Welcome home,” she says, and Scar feels something in his chest piece back together.

And, well. That would be a pretty good thing to put on a doormat.

#hi i love the clockers and i'm not sorry #limited life #limited life smp #goodtimeswithscar #bdoubleo100 #bdubs #gtws #zombiecleo #cleo #clockers #the clockers #j writes #traffic spoilers #limited life spoilers #<- not the most recent session but. the one before that one #and i guess a very small thing from the recent session is mentioned

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starlit-fantasy · 2 months ago

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It’s strange being in someone else’s bed and knowing how much love has resided there while knowing that I will never have that.

Well, everything is good until it’s not. My eyelids were open, and I could see his face within a proximity I didn’t realize we were at. His snores are soft, and I’m just glad he’s finally catching up on sleep. The past few days have been rough for him. The lead time from discovering the airplane tickets and hotel receipts to the fights and eventual breakup was short. He’s a sweet guy, always has been since college, and I couldn’t imagine that out of anyone I know it has to be him who suffered that kind of betrayal. I, for the most part, couldn’t say much that would help. For the last couple of days we made it a routine to go grab dinner together after work–in which for every occasion he would prolong the chats until the restaurant would kick us out. I understand him, it is never easy coming back to an empty apartment where there used to be so much love inside. The traces of her still remain in this place.

The hangover still drags me down, pinning me to the pillows like an unseen hand. I’m not fully awake, but my mind drifts to the furthest reaches of this place, tracing every detail my eyes can follow. Strips of photobox pictures hang on the wall, the same ones I’ve seen scattered across her Instagram. Crumpled gift bags sit discarded in the corner, bright and careless, relics of birthdays or anniversaries I’ll never know. The pink quilt wraps around us, spread like a quiet assertion of who truly defines this home. Dolls, toys, unisex perfumes clutter the space, more photos scattered on the bedside table. It feels intimate but hollow, like stepping into a memory that isn’t mine. And as I lie here, pretending I belong, I start imagining them—laughing in the kitchen, recounting their days in this very bed, fighting, then finding their way back to each other before the sun climbed the sky. I can’t help but wonder—am I reenacting their past, or am I just reaching for the feeling of love I’ve never let myself have?

In truth, I’ve never let myself be vulnerable like that. I’ve wrapped my heart in hobbies, distractions, little luxuries to keep the loneliness at bay. But all those things are just locks on a coffin, the one I’ve buried my heart in, safe from anyone who might want to crack it open. And I sit here, pretending I’m okay. Pretending I don’t want to feel what she felt, even if it was doomed.

I hate myself for it. For wanting what I swore I’d never need. For being here, in someone else’s bed, like a thief trying to steal warmth from a fire long extinguished. I write to fill the void, I devour art and music like it’ll make me whole, but there’s never enough. I go through the motions—work, friends, laughter—but at the end of the day, I crawl into bed alone. Every night, staring at the darkness behind my eyelids, I wait for sleep that never feels like rest.

I think back to August, twelve years ago, when life still brimmed with possibility. But even that memory feels heavy now, tinged with a sadness I can’t quite shake. I’m not sure how I ended up here—stuck in a town that feels like a slow death, where the distance between two people grows like a poison. And then, there’s the girl from last week. I stood in the same ocean she disappeared into, my mind circling around Woolf’s pockets full of stones and Plath’s head in the oven. Every Saturday, I row out into the open sea, staring into that vastness, always wondering if I’d float. When I fell off my board, I’d sink under, holding my breath until my lungs screamed for air. That pain—it felt real. More real than anything I’ve let myself feel in years. And sometimes, when I’m under the water, I wonder how anyone could love someone who keeps testing how long they can stay down there.

And yet, I’ve spent my life craving that love. But now that it’s within reach, it feels like cheating. Like I’m devouring something forbidden, too quickly, too recklessly, afraid of being caught with the evidence smeared across my face. It’s not just that I want to be loved—it's that I’ve always wanted it too much. And nobody wants someone starving for affection. So I hid it. I walk through the harsh January sun, hands stuffed deep in my pockets, pretending I don’t want anything at all. But the truth is, I want everything—so much that I feel like a bottomless pit in the shape of a person, swallowing up anything that looks like love, too desperate to even taste it.

And now, as his eyes flutter open and he smiles softly, brushing his hand against my head, I feel that familiar panic rise. I need love, but I don’t trust it. I’ve never trusted it. If I stay, if I let him see too much, he’ll leave—like everyone does. I can’t bear the weight of that, not again. So, I do what I always do: I’ll leave first. I’ll find some flaw, some imperfection in him, even if I have to invent it. I’ll make myself believe it was never going to work, that this was all a mistake. It’s easier that way—easier than waiting for the inevitable goodbye.

I slip out of his bed, out of this place that was never really mine, before he even realizes I’m gone.

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leagueofdccm · 4 months ago

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THE RED KING TOOK A LIKING TO HER ? Was he the red king he was referring to ? Or Stan Edgar ? Starlight didn't want to question him, but a voice deep within her informed her in a ghostly like whisper that the RED KING was Homelander, himself. And that made something FLUTTER in the hollow of her stomach, making this whole situation even more frightening for the supe. Because the fluttering wasn't horrendous, and that is something she wishes to conceal away, that YEARNING. Homelander is unpredictable and deeply troubled; he is the most powerful among them all and the most dangerous superhero ever. What he says, go. End of that.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the mention of THE DEEP. To bring that asshole back felt like Homelander wanted to hurt her ? How did he wish her to be okay with having to work with the guy who had sexually assaulted her ? Starlight might CRACK one of these days, to be honest... as in perhaps she'll do the unthinkable, and The Deep will rub her the wrong way, one wrong look her way, a faulty move. Enough for that DARK URGE to surge inside her once again, those voices who dare crawl out of the SHADOWS SPEAKING OF DEATH, and maybe, just possibly, she'll do it. Crossing her arms over her chest, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, a scoff.

" And how will I ever satisfy the great Homeland- " Eyes widening at the sight of Homelander's face coming forward, her mind begins to race, fearing what he could possibly be doing. Until her fear twisted into confusion when his lips captured hers, the gentleness of his fingers CUPPING her chin, the warmness of his tongue DRAGGING against her bottom lip. Her voice hitches in her throat; her heart sways to this kiss. The electricity that streams through her veins sends shockwaves through her body, heat forming between her legs; she can't help but open her mouth, permitting his tongue and her tongue to GRAZE against each other; it's like... her body had a mind of its own ?

A hand comes to cup the side of his cheek, sliding past his ear until her hand curls into the back of his head, weaving through his blonde locks to draw him closer, her body eagerly pushing against his body as her lips furiously moved against his own, this is WICKED, this is truly fucked up, and she is doing the unthinkable, and liking it ?! Annie hands began to wander across his supersuit, lower and lower....

Then her mind shifts..., Hughie, GOD--- HUGHIE ?! What was she doing kissing Homelander when she was with Hughie ?! Starlight breaks away from the kiss, her chest heaving wildly as if she's been running a marathon, warmth spreading down her collarbone. Cheeks flushed and mind dazed. " I- I can't believe I just did that, oh my god ! I- I have a boyfriend... remember Hughie ? We- I ... I kissed you back.... " That she did, and she liked it, and never did the thought of Hughie grazed her mind until AFTER... she feels guilt washing over her. But also confused as to what Homelander was up to ? Starlight raises a hand to touch her lips, now red and swollen from their kiss; it feels tingling--- EVERYWHERE; she wonders if he can smell her ? God, of course, he probably could smell her ! " Why did you- why did you kiss me ? "

She's like a kitten, clawing and hissing that he touched her little tail. His smiles tugs up in a sharp grin "Oh, Star.. I do, I do need you very much, poor Alice is stuck between us in this wonderland, no? But the red king sadly took a liking in her.." He wants to do many things to her, she's the only person to be brave enough to stand in front of him.. and he'll be lying if he says he doesn't like it about her..

"I'll tell you what, you try to satisfy me and we all will forget about Deep." And being honest, he doesn’t give a damn about him at all "and, maybe it's only me thinking like this but, I really think you're rotating the same words again and again.. all barks and no bites, Star. Please, don't pull the 'say hello to my fans online' trick again, we both are adults.. right?" This close, he can stare right inside her dark brown eyes, golden strings swirling around inside those beautiful orbs, their faces inches apart, John can fucking feel her heartbeat through their suits.

What he does after, he probably counts it as a sudden rush, a heatwave when the tension is up, adrenaline pumping in your veins and her scent.. which is a sweet aroma of lavender, attracts him like a bee to flowers, oh how poetic, Tiger.. you're a wild creature, her meat would taste delicious under my teeth. But he does it, surges in and captures her soft lips in a kiss, hooking a finger under her chin to have the head tilting upward, more access for Homelander when he drags his tongue over her bottom lip. I need to eat her alive to get rid of her. Want to melt in her.. I never felt this alive when being with a woman..

It was Starlight's fault for throwing a tantrum at first then put a flame to their fight, threatening the strongest man with bursting his heart with electricity? Don't promise me good times, miss..

#homelander rp blog #homelander-rp-blog #🌟◂Starlight┊ Interactions┊Main #🌟◂Starlight┊ Interactions┊Long #♡◂interactions┊ threads

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redneckangelsdrinkmoonshine · 4 years ago

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Yesterday something weird happened and I wasn't gonna talk about it, but I am gonna talk about it. It's gonna be a vulnerable post y'all.

So, I finished season 13 and I wanted to watch some random videos instead of starting a new season or maybe listen to some music so I switched to YouTube. There were a lot of Misha Collins videos in my recommendations and they were all titled "Halo" (my favourite Beyonce song), "I Lived" (my favourite One Republic song) and some others. I was sure they were gonna be quite emotional, but I wanted to watch them.

I had watched videos where Misha talks about his scars, being homeless, being fat, all that earlier, this week (I almost cried) and y'know, knowing small pieces of this guy's past made me feel like we're family and it made me appreciate him more.

Watching these videos? One minute into the first video, I started sobbing, the last time I cried so hard was so long ago. I ended up watching like, ten videos in a row, I barely saw anything through my tears but what I saw, I'll have it tattooed on my heart forever.

I knew he has different charity organisations, but I never realized how big they are and how much Misha is actually involved in them. But that wasn't the only thing that made me cry,

I cried so much, because I was proud and full of hope. I'm proud of Misha, of how much he's grown, of how even though his early, delicate years were filled with so much pain and anger, that guy was able to succeed in life and he was able to keep his halo. Misha is an actual angel, no wonder he was cast on the show, but he is an angel and the world should have at least one more person like him, even though Misha Collins is one of a kind.

Another thing that made me cry even harder before I just ran out of tears was that feeling of overwhelming hope. Being in a rough situation right now, quite often I feel like I'm gonna come out on the other side as my worst version ever. As much as I'm improving, my head feels quite heavy sometimes and sometimes it's way too hard to keep it up. Some of my old additions, things it took me years to get rid of are crawling back and for now, I'm able to push them away because I know they don't help, but do the opposite. However, living in a place where you're barely liked and being openly hated and judged when you leave the house just makes you feel hopeless and homeless.

Watching these videos of Misha and also reading quite some interviews, it gave me hope, because Misha is human. If he was able to go through such terrible things, then I believe I can do the same, and maybe I can be as good of a person as he is.

But there was one thing that broke me. It hurt, emotionally and- it just hurt in every way possible. Hearing Misha say that he's not worthy of anyone looking up to him, hearing him say all these terrible, horrible things about himself.

Dmitri Tippens Krushnic, you're worthy of every single person that has a special place for you in their heart. Don't you dare ever forget that. Don't change and never stop shining so brightly, never strip the world of your smile, because it's pretty much like the sun : we're gonna die without it.

Thank you for existing. (and I'm sorry to whoever read that whole thing just now)

#supernatural #So #This happened #That guy crawled his way into my dark hollow heart #And I feel like he's always gonna stay there #Misha Collins is definitely something else

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

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Worth the World

Spike x Reader

Words: 2459

Summary: On a particularly bad day, the reader can barely bring herself to get out of bed. Spike does his best to comfort his girlfriend without being overbearing.

Notes: This is inspired by one of my favorite fics ever by @suckmysupernatural. I got this idea when having a depressive episode myself, so I hope you guys enjoy a little comfort fic with one of my favorite vamps. Plus, I’ve never written for Spike before and since I’m getting back into Buffy, I thought this would be the perfect time. (Also, this is entirely based on my own experience, so it might not be everyone’s experience with this kind of thing {but please be nice, I just used a few of the things I felt so it’s all based on my own emotions and insecurities!}) Enjoy!

Warnings: Depression, self-loathing, anxiety (This imagine was really just a way for me to put down my emotions and write something comforting, but I hope you all like it too)

You didn’t want to move. You weren’t really sure if you could. Your limbs just felt… heavy. Forcing your legs to move, you slowly swung them over the side of the bed, using all the strength you could muster to sit up straight.

It wasn’t that something terrible had happened. In fact, the day before had gone pretty well. You’d spent most of it watching movies with Willow and Buffy and, when the sunset, you went on a long evening walk with your boyfriend. There were no deadly forces plotting world domination, no vengeful vamps after you or your friends. Hell, your favorite restaurant was open and you brought home leftovers for breakfast.

Now, the idea of eating made your stomach turn. You managed to shuffle your way to the kitchen of your apartment, but just stood in front of the counter, leaning on the marble top for support. Just standing there felt like it took every ounce of energy you had. It was almost painful, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You did your best to keep them from falling. You had places to be today, meeting up with the gang and you didn’t want to worry them with your moping.

With slow steps, you made your way back to your room to get dressed. Of course, most of your clothes were dirty and you didn’t care enough to wash them. So you threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and put on some shoes, hoping no one would ask about it. You caught your reflection and felt that dark, empty feeling in your chest grow. Pathetic. Your shoulders sagged forward and you blinked away more tears as you watched them well in your eyes. You didn’t have the right to feel like this. How much had Buffy been through and she still greeted every day with a smile. Everything was perfect and yet you were pathetic enough to still want to crawl back into bed. You just hoped that you would feel better by the time you saw everyone. Especially Spike.

You sat with your legs pulled up to your chest. Xander and Willow were debating whether or not using wooden bullets would be a good vamp killer. Buffy was listening in amusement and Giles just looked exasperated, distracting himself by putting books back in their proper place on the shelves. No one said anything about your pajamas. You actually felt kind of invisible, like no one even really knew you were there. It made the empty feeling that much worse.

“What do you think, Y/N?”

“Xander, don’t you think that’s a little insensitive?”

“What? It’s not like we’re planning on dusting her boyfriend. Even if he is annoying and evil and-”

“Xander.” Willow said sternly. When you looked up, everyone’s eyes were on you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention.” Your voice held little to no emotion. You were almost too exhausted to feel anything. You just felt hollow.

“If I shot Spike with a wooden bullet do you think he would, you know,” Xander made a motion with his hands that was meant to simulate a vampire dying. “Just theoretically, of course.”

Everyone was expecting a witty remark. You and Xander were close and teased each other often, especially about your relationship with Spike. Instead, you just shrugged, your eyes fixating on a spot on the table.

“Maybe.”

The group collectively exchanged a look of concern, but didn’t press anything. After all, what reason could there be for you to be upset? They knew that if something had happened with Spike, you would tell them and there weren’t any recent deaths to worry about, so they continued on with their playful conversations about breaking curses and some movie that they had watched recently. It felt like you were intruding- like an unwanted bystander that everyone wished would just disappear. While no one had said anything like that, the thoughts filled your head nonetheless.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but you’d never told them. An episode like this hadn’t happened in months so you had hoped they had stopped. Some days you were as happy as you ever had been, but others you felt like a burden. Worthless and pathetic- pitying yourself for no reason at all.

Spike didn’t even know, even after almost a year of dating. You never dreamed of telling him. Spike was always saying that you were the strong one. You were the one that helped him through every day of his endless living. He got his soul for you. What would he say if he saw you like this? If he knew the doubts and loathing going through your head. He would know that you’re weak and vulnerable and you didn’t want that to happen.

So you didn’t tell them. You kept all of your thoughts inside of you as they ate away at your mind. On the outside, you just looked tired. Everyone knew that you stayed awake into the late hours because of Spike, so you hoped that’s what they would think. You were tired, but it wasn’t from lack of sleep. It was like your body just wanted to give up. Maybe if you could just wake yourself up, everything would go back to normal.

Buffy and Willow went out for coffee, so you went with them, hoping the caffeine would be enough to shake you out of this. Instead, it just made you more jumpy and anxious. The cup shook in your hand, but you kept drinking, still hoping that it would give you enough energy to fake it. This, like your out-of-it demeanor, did not go unnoticed.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Buffy asked, suddenly stopping her conversation with Willow about shoes. At first, you didn’t realize she was talking to you. You were so focused on the thoughts swarming around in your head, you hadn’t noticed they were both looking at you with concern.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve been spacing out all morning. What’s going on?”

“I guess I’m just tired.” You shrugged, grimacing from the effort the small movement took.

“Are you sure? Did Spike do something stupid, because you know I’ll-”

“Really, Buffy, I’m okay. I think I just need to go home and rest for a while.” You finished the rest of the coffee, feeling your heart beat faster as the anxiety built up in your chest. “I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

“Okay.” Buffy gave you a skeptical glance and Willow smiled sincerely.

“Feel better, Y/N.”

“I’ll see you guys later.” You faked the best smile you could before turning away from them.

“Is she going to be okay?” Willow wondered, watching the way you nervously messed with the hem of your shirt as you walked. Buffy narrowed her eyes and grabbed her bag.

“I don’t know, but if she won’t talk to us about it, there’s one person she will.”

“Oh do we have to go there? You know that place gives me the creeps.” Willow whined. Buffy just gave her a look and the two trekked off in search of your sun-hating boyfriend.

You stood in the middle of your living room as the tears slowly started to pour down your cheeks. The coffee must have given you enough energy to cry and now you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you just stood, frozen by the overwhelming emptiness inside you. Pathetic. Useless. Worthless. Everything was swirling around your head, breaking you down further until you had to lean against the window sill to stay standing.

You could faintly hear something outside your door, but you made no motion to open it. It sounded far away, or maybe you were just blocking it out. All you could hear was your heart pounding, along with the hundreds of doubts rattling in your head. It was until the door burst open that you flinched.

“First, the slayer comes banging on my crypt, telling me that something’s wrong and then you leave me to break down your door- if I could die, you would have scared me to death. Why didn’t you open the door?” Spike huffed in frustration. You didn’t turn around. Frankly, you hardly noticed he was there. His irritation quickly faded, replaced by worry. “Y/N, love, what is it?”

You still didn’t respond, keeping your back turned with your hands clinging to the window sill to keep from falling. Spike approached you slowly and you thought you heard his footsteps, but part of you thought you were just imagining him. Why would he come for you? It was the middle of the day and the sun was high in the sky. A rush of guilt washed over you. He came here despite the danger of being burned and you didn’t even have a reason. You’d put him at risk for your own pitiful problems.

“Darling, why won’t you look at me?” He took another step towards you, but stopped. The sun’s rays created a shield around you, preventing him from pulling you into his arms. “If you could just lower the blinds, that would make this far less awkward.”

“You d-didn’t need to come here. T-the sun.” You stammered. You wanted to reach for the curtains, but you still couldn’t move your arms without your legs giving out.

“A little sunlight isn’t going to stop from me from getting to you,” he said sincerely. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him rush to the window, the sound of his skin sizzling in the light made you let go of the ledge. Your legs buckled just as he got the curtains closed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You had hurt him. All you had to do was reach up and shut out the sunlight and you couldn’t even do that. He burned himself just to reach you.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. It’s alright.” He held you up for a moment before sinking to the floor to hold you in his lap. “I’ve got you love, I’ve got you.”

“Y-you shouldn’t be here, Spike. I’m not-” You hid your face from his view so he would see the tears. “I’m not worth all of this. There’s something wrong with me. One minute I’m fine and the next I’m like this and I don’t even know why. I don’t have a reason to feel like this. It’s like I’m… broken or something.”

“You aren’t broken.” Spike said softly, tucking your head under his chin and gently rocking you back and forth. “You’re human.”

He held you like that for a long while, not saying anything or even moving off of the floor. He didn’t make you look at him until he was sure you had relaxed enough. Putting a finger under your chin, he gently lifted your face to meet his.

“I’m sorry about all this.” You sniffed, using your sleeve to wipe some of the dampness off your cheeks.

“I don’t want to hear those worse from you for the rest of the day.” Spike gave you a small smile and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I would trek across deserts wrapped in a blanket if it meant being here with you. Every second is worth it.” Now, he lowered his lips down to yours for a slow, sweet kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining with the soul of a man in love. “To me, love, you’re worth the world.”

You stared into his eyes and knew that he meant every single word. While it didn’t chase away your doubts or the empty feeling in your chest, it helped you see that this feeling would end. And for now, that was enough.

“I love you.” You whispered, pulling him closer. He kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too, darling.” He hooked his arm under your knees and stood, holding you against his chest. “Now, why don’t I get you something to eat and we can spend the day in bed?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“Spike.” You laughed lightly.

“There,” He beamed, “I knew I could get a smile.”

He carried you into your room and placed you on your usual side of the bed, laying your fluffiest blanket over top of you. Then he vanished into your kitchen, the sound of your cupboards opening and shutting reminding you that he had no idea where anything was. It almost made you smile. He came back in with a bowl of your favorite cereal, a class of milk, and a thin leather bound journal.

“What’s that?” You wondered as he climbed into the bed beside you. He handed you the cereal and milk and put his arm around you, pulling you close.

“Eat your cereal.” He ordered teasingly, opening up to the first page. You tried to look over his shoulder, but he pulled the book away, laughing. “Do you want me to read or not?”

“What is it?” Your curiosity made your tone amused and playful. You were starting to sound like you again.

“Well, ever since I got this pesky soul back, I’ve had an unbearable amount of feelings running about in my head, so I figured I could at least put them to good use.”

“Spike, are they…?” You perked up with excitement. He smiled sheepishly.

“Poems.” He looked down at seemingly endless pages of his writings and back at you. “They’re mostly about you, of course. I thought, maybe, you’d like to hear them. See if they’d make you feel a little better.” You were almost too awestruck to nod.

“I’d really like that.”

With your cereal in hand, you curled up beside him, laying your head back against his shoulder. He read softly and slowly, his gentleness with his words almost lulling you to sleep. The poems were beautiful, forcing you to stay awake if only to hear one more word. Spike felt you relaxed against him as he read and paused his reading to kiss your forehead, then your cheek, and lastly your lips.

You felt the emptiness for a few more days, but each day, he was by your side, making sure you ate and gave yourself time to breathe. By the time you started to feel normal again, he’d read most of his poems and continued to write more and you were able to go for your evening walks without feeling exhausted. Your friends were more than supportive and helped you through it all while still giving you the space you needed.

It wasn’t the last time an episode like this happened, but now you always knew that, no matter what, you’d never be alone.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216

#spike x reader #james marsters #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #btvs #spike #spike buffy #xander harris #buffy summers #willow rosenberg #buffyverse #comfort fic #depressive episode #comfort boyfriend fic #cute

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vapidfrivolity · 2 years ago

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Mobile Nav

Hey, the name’s Azar and these are my links

Personal Rules | Muse list (a WIP atm) | Click “Keep reading” for rp excerpts.

Imo it’s important to know each other to find a good roleplay partner, so I’ll try my best to get to know you, slow as I am. I ask you to have patience, I love to roleplay, but my pace is often times a crawl for others.

The following are some rp excerpts, from newest to oldest. I don’t expect you to mirror my style, I simply get curious how someone rp’s firsthand, so I offer you a peek likewise.

“Life in HOME had never been easy. Tranquility and attrition always came hand in hand. NAME’s headspace and thoughts were all organized in neat boxes, sorted and labelled to pick and discard in the midst of a nebulous space in between. The ones tossed away were never truly gone, the material worn-down in a way that meant misuse, but still held together by never-fading snaps in time and enough feelings to drown in if he wasn’t careful. PLACE was never a box; it’d be a fool’s errand to cage nearly decades chockfull of memories when he never meant to forget about them in the first place. It was a gradual thing, but the moment he woke up safe and warm with a roof over his head that wasn’t made of stalagmite, no longer afraid of the darkness that lurked in the safe walls of too-expensive material, NAME knew. He would give his life for this place.”

“In PLACE, there is no stronger scent than that of freshly spilled blood. It permeates through the burning cold, and for NAME it is the single memory that rings in his mind like no other. He can taste it on his tongue, feel the tangy aftertaste on a single smack of his lips as his body relaxes preemptively for a fight. It's an instinctive reaction, one bred by the horrorterrors and nurtured later by his own will. NAME would compare it to vodka; both ignite the same spark of anticipation singing underneath his skin. It keeps him moving and alert, warding off the natural call of sleepy warmth from his uniform's bulk. It often was a welcome distraction from his most recent, assignment--the same one that had been doled out for the better part of a year now. [ … ] An assignment that was being toyed with a couple of miles from the furthest camp in his division. [ … ]

NAME could feel the beginnings of laughter bubbling in his chest. If he were to "help" now, this would be a lovely piece of blackmail; maybe he would be snagging that one long-con mission right under COWORKER’s nose. "Let's see... Why don't I help you out a little, friend?" In a flash of steel, NAME carefully measured the strength of his shot. He didn't want to kill his unsuspecting accomplice. This guy was his ticket outside, after all.”

“When NAME opens his eyes, sunlight is streaming out of the window. Gentle amber spills across his sheets in a soft glow; the more he stares at it, the more something as pure and bright loses its touch with reality in his mind. If haven were to exist in pockets and small moments, this would be one of his. Seconds tick by and he gets restless.

Radio static. Morning calm...

It’s all white noise.

He can't tell seconds apart from minutes anymore, there are no clocks in his room. Instead, he knows it’s time to get up when his hands start to tremble. His fingers twitch and curl around the sheets, dislodging the calm. The world fades back into awareness from his safe haven in bits and pieces.

Leaves rustle, his heart beats. Slow breaths, sheets crease.

He’s awake now.

Gentle breeze runs through his veins, echoing in his bones and between his fingers like crossing hollow caverns and mountain peaks. His posture sways as he sits like a baby deer and it's both frustrating and familiar. His body feels weak today again as if it can barely move without taking a gargantuan effort to articulate all of his muscles and joints the right way.

It's one of those days again.”

#ooc rambles #rp example

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

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In Name Only - Part 17

A/N: Hello, my loves! I’m finally back with some more INO. I’ve missed Oberyn and his Sunshine so much - I hope you guys did too. More importantly, I hope you are ready for what’s t come! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You’d avoided going to dinner that night. You knew it was silly and immature and yes, you were acting every bit the child that Oberyn had accused you of being. But you couldn’t face him, not right then and there, and you knew that he would be busy with the others, and his mind would be occupied. Little did you know that his mind was indeed consumed, but it was consumed by thoughts of you and how he never wanted to see a single tear on your face again.

He’d never once even raised his voice at you, let alone to have gone that far and yelled at you. It was in the heat of the moment, you knew that much, but still...it just...hurt. But you’d discuss it with him later. Later when you were done acting like a child and crying yourself to sleep. It wasn’t just the raising of his voice that had jolted you, it was the fact that he was so keen about pushing away something that mattered to you.

“Oberyn,” the prince in question looked up from his plate and turned to the man that had uttered his name. He hadn’t eaten much, instead pushed his food around the plate, cutting the bits of food into virtual mush. With a light sigh he set down his fork, “what vexes you so? Where is your enchanting wife?”

“I’m afraid the issues are one and the same,” he admitted to the older man with a shrug of his shoulders, “I was a fool earlier, and raised my voice at her, completely out of turn. In the moment I was not thinking clearly and it just came out. Was I a smarter man I would have held my peace until I could think more rationally.”

“We all make mistakes,” he explained, “and surely it is to be expected within any marriage. Apologize to her and then listen to her words, I am sure she will understand. She seems like a level headed woman.”

“She is,” he agreed, “she that’s and a million more things.”

"Then you already know what to do," he gave Oberyn's shoulder a squeeze before giving him a gentle nudge towards the exit. The Prince nodded before rising to his feet and silently slipping away through the crowd.

It was not often that he was the one that needed to do the apologizing, but when it came to down to it, he was already beating himself up about it.

He was silent as he tried to figure out what to say, just exactly how to apologize that when he arrived at your chambers, he wasn't even sure what to say.

Knocking hesitantly, Oberyn paused in nervous anticipation when you didn't call for him to enter. Nevertheless, the prince pushed the door open and found the room shrouded in darkness with only a singular candle burning at his side of the bed. His heart clenched at the small gesture, knowingly you'd purposely left it burning for him.

At the sound of the disturbance, you stirred from your slumber, rubbing at your eyes as you sat up. Blinking away the bleariness, you turned to the door, "Oberyn?"

"Its me," he whispered softly, "its me, sweet girl."

Your heart lightened at the realization that it was your husband, and you pushed the covers back as you dashed over to him. He was one step ahead and met you halfway. Quickly wrapping you up in his arms, as you snaked your arms around his waist.

Burrowing your face into his neck, you took a moment to breath him in and soak it all up.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair before pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, "I'm sorry for exploding like that - the things I said. I shouldn't have said the things I did."

"Oberyn..." you pulled back and looked at him, placing your hands on either side of his face before gently kissing him, "you don't have to apologize. I...know you're only trying to protect me. But as your wife - your partner - you must know I want to be a part of the decision making process. I want to understand things, I want you to teach me. I want to know all the things I don’t know.”

"I will," he promised softly, pressing his forehead against yours, "whatever you want, I will do it. I am yours always and I will never yell at you again."

"I know," you whispered softly, "I know one little disagreement won't end us, Oberyn. I love you more than anything in this world, you know that."

And then he pulled back; he pulled back and looked at you with such an intensity it was like his golden flecked eyes were staring right into your soul. Your grip on his waist tightened before you crashed your lips onto his, a frenzied, hurried crescendo of tongue and teeth as you wanted to touch, taste, and feel all of him.

His large, warm hands went to the hollow of your throat as he hastily undid the tie of sheer robe covering your nightgown, letting it pool delicately at your feet. He kissed you again, with a sense of urgency, almost as if he was afraid if he let you go you'd disappear. Your pale golden gown was shimmied up and over your head in an instant.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered as he kissed your jaw and down your neck, stopping to swipe his tongue along your collarbones before you began tugging on his tunic, "my sunshine."

"And what about you, my moon and stars?" you giggled as he pulled back and hastily rid him of the confining clothing, "the most stunning man in the world."

"Flattering your old fool will get you nowhere," he teased, reaching down to give your bum a squeeze before placing you on the large, soft bed. You made a sound of delight as you hit the plush covers and blankets and he crawled over your frame.

"Oberyn," you pulled him down to your lips, kissing him in a searing, screaming way as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him against you. The sound he made, a moan so low and visceral sent shivers down your whole spine.

"I love you," he whispered against your soft skin, "and I love making love to you, but tonight I'm going to fuck you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

When you woke up, the warm salt air was filtering into the room, and you felt warm, so warm and happy. A contented sigh escaped your lips as your eyes opened and you reached for Oberyn. He chuckled lightly as he grabbed your hand and brought to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You grinned at him before he pulled you into his arms and you moved to lay on top of him. There was a dull but pleasant ache between your legs and you couldn't help but make a small sound of surprise.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he moved a hand down your form to cup your bum in his large hand, "sore?"

"In the best ways," you beamed at him before pressing a kiss to his chest, "I love you so much, Oberyn."

"Now you're just flattering me,” he huffed as you shook your head at him, “but I like hearing it anyway. It makes me feel…”

“So alive?” you asked as he nodded in agreement. You relaxed on top of him and stared out the window and into the beautiful azure water. A contented sound left your lips as Oberyn played with your hair, “I love it here. We must come back soon...perhaps we can bring the girls and everyone else.”

“They would love it,” he agreed with a soft chuckle, thinking fondly of how much he missed all of them, “it’s a plan then. We'll be back soon with everyone in tow.”

“Perfect,” you agreed, “even though I love it, but I’m ready to go home too. We have much to attend to.”

“We leave tomorrow,” he reminded you, “we should make the most of our remaining time here before the long journey back.”

“Starting with you,” you kissed him before grinding your hips down on his, “and letting me fuck you.”

“Sunshine.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Welcome home, my prince," Asha beamed at the two of you when she met your carriage outside upon your arrival back at Sunspear. She hugged you tightly, an excited look in her eyes, "my lady. We've missed you both terribly!"

"I'm sure things are ever the same," you promised her as your retinue started to unload your belongings, "do tell us, have we missed anything exciting?"

"I'm afraid not," she admitted with a sheepish grin. You nudged her shoulder gently with yours as you greeted a few people milling about, "business as usual. Although I think the twins are starting to get suspicious of what's happening!"

"That is most exciting, Asha! Our family is growing and our household is expanding," your heart felt light at the mention of the twins you would soon be able to call your own. Oberyn held your hand tightly, a wistful little smile on his face, "I can't wait to bring them home soon. What do you think, dear husband?"

"Whenever you're ready, the timing will be right," he promised as Jeron called for his attention. You offered the young man a wave of your own before gently pushing Oberyn in his direction, "are you sure?"

"Of course," you promised, "we've barely been apart in the last month, I think we'll manage an hour or two."

"As you wish," he leaned over and kissed you before heading over to his men, "until we meet again."

"So dramatic," you jokingly shook your head as you turned back to Asha, who was watching your every move intently. You looped your arm through hers as you headed inside.

"Seems like you two are getting along well," she had a knowing little smirk on her face as her gaze flitted over the faint love bites lingering on your skin. A warmth flushed over you but instead of shying away you nodded, "very well. I'm sure we'll be preparing for a new arrival in no time."

"Things have been going well..." you agreed with a soft smile as you listened to her words, not realizing their full implication until you a few moments later, "but that doesn't mean everything is perfect. There's always things we have to work through - we're as different as we are the same, Oberyn and I. But I think we'll always be able to figure it out. I hate to disappoint you, but I do think we need to worry about a new baby any time soon. Besides, the twins will be joining us shortly!"

"You are both very lucky I should think," Asha ushered you up the stairs and towards your shared bed chambers, "to have found one you can love so deeply and fully despite never intending to fall in love in the first place."

"I understand few things in this world," you admitted as you looked around the foyer and felt a sense of relief at being home wash over you, "but I do know that finding love in a marriage intended for convenience is extremely rare. I do not doubt however, that we were meant to find each other one way or another."

"A love story," the young girl sighed longingly, "I should only dream of having a love as deep and pure as yours one day. But if anything, it has taught me not to settle for nothing else."

"Always remember that," you insisted softly. You quickly closed the door to your chambers behind you, looking around first to make sure no one was lingering around. When the coast was clear, you went over to the girl and whispered in a hushed tone, "can I trust you, Asha?"

"Of course, my lady," she raised her eyebrows at your sudden need for quiet and secrecy. You put your hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, "is everything alright? Did something happen with you and the prince?"

"No, no, no," you promised, only half lying. Of course something had happened, but you weren't ready to go over all of that just yet. And it wasn't like things between the two of you had completely soured...no, this was just something you needed to do. With or without your husband's knowledge, "things are quite fine. I just...can you help me secure passage to Honeyholt? I must make haste and return to my ancestral home quickly."

"O-of course," she tilted her to head the side and offered you a confused look, "when do you need to leave? Is Oberyn coming? Did something happen with your family?"

"I must leave as soon as possible," you swallowed the lump in your throat, willing the nerves to go away, "I want to leave under the cover of the night - tonight. I'll be going by myself. Please just make sure a horse is ready and saddled by the back gardens. I'll figure out the rest."

"Night?" now she seemed suspicious and confused and you tried to play it off, "surely that must be more dangerous?"

"Don't worry, my sweet Asha," you gently brushed a few of her dark locks of hair out of her face, "everything is fine! It's pretty safe out here. I just thought it would be cooler and an easier journey through the evening. No big reason...Oberyn is...he knows. I do not wish to bother him with such trivial matters any more than need be."

"And Oberyn...your husband is not coming with you?"

"The Prince will have many duties to attend to upon our return," you were panicked but tried to play it cool, "any other time and he would come. But not this time, and like I said, its no big deal. You can help, right?"

"Of course, my lady," she gave a light bow, and you could tell from her expression that she had a million more questions on her mind. But you weren't about to answer those...not yet. You felt horrible for lying to her and for not telling Oberyn of your plans but you knew he'd never allow it, "I'll go and make preparations and allow you to settle in."

"Asha?" you reached for her hand before she could leave the room and she stopped in her tracks, "please don't mention this to anyone, especially Oberyn, I don't want to bother them unnecessarily..."

"As you wish," she promised as you offered up a small smile. Every worry and suspicion must have been raised, but she didn't say a word. You'd make it up to her, for dragging her into this and not telling her the truth, once the dust all settled, "I shall find you later."

She left again, and you quickly closed the door behind her retreating form, a long sigh escaping your lips. Your whole body was humming with nervous energy as you felt almost sick to your stomach with worry. Lying and sneaking around wasn't your style, you loathed the feeling it instilled in you - disgusting and anxious. But you had to do this - this was the only way.

After you made sure that no was coming, you dropped to your knees and reached under the bed, looking around for the one thing you had hidden. At the time you weren’t even sure why you’d placed it there, positive you’d never need it again, but now you were glad you’d had the forethought to do so. Feeling around for a moment, you grew panicked when you didn't feel it at first, but quickly made a small sound of triumph when your hand found the cool metal object.

You pulled it out and looked at it fondly; it was a beautiful thing - both intricately made and deadly as could be. It was a curved dagger, forged and handmade many years ago and passed down within the Beesbury lineage for many generations. It was a silver thing, sheathed in a golden yellow crystal housing, complete with the bee insignia of your family. It could easily take anyone down and due to the curvature of the blade, it would be painful. As far as you knew, it hadn’t been used for any sort of vengeance or violence in many eons, but it would still be deadly when wielded properly. Your father had passed it down to you before his untimely demise, opting to give it to you instead of one of your brothers.

Back then it had seemed like a keepsake, a memory of him to cherish forever, a small thing you had kept hidden and to yourself for some time now. Finally, it seemed, it could come in useful once again. A soft shudder left your lips as you lifted up your skirts and found a ribbon to strap the dagger to your thigh. You’d worry about finding some excuse not to undress in front of Oberyn later; you were sure there was some excuse you could come up with in order to avoid the seemingly nightly round of lovemaking that had been taking place.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you realized how much more you’d rather just stay home and push this all away; but you knew you could never leave it. If you did, it would plague you forever, constantly nagging at you. Oberyn, even after you’d meekly discussed what to do, still insisted upon a course of inaction. Even though you normally would have agreed, this was the one thing you were refusing to back down from. When it was all said and done, he would understand, he would know you had to do this…

A gentle knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts as you stood up and pulled your skirts back down. After a moment of silence, Oberyn opened the door and poked his head in, giving you a soft smile.

“Is everything alright, Sunshine?”

“Of course, my love,” you promised him, the pit in your belly stirring anxiously, “I’m just tired is all. I think I’ve been hit with a bout of tiredness from all the travel and returning to such a busy home.”

His brows furrowed for a moment as he tried to read the expression on your face. You’d never been a good actor, unable to conceal your emotions from your face, and you hoped for once it would work. You could also feign illness or...something. Instead, he gently reached over and put his hand on your cheek, before leaning over and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead.

“You’re right,” he agreed, that same easy smile he reserved for you and only you crossing his features. You felt a momentary sense of relief as you realized your little rouse worked, “it’s been a long day indeed. Perhaps we should both retire early this evening. There will be plenty of time for celebration later.”

“Indeed,” it became so easy to play along, like everything was normal and you weren’t about to completely go against his wishes, “besides, tomorrow will give us time to get the kids and everyone together. I wouldn’t want to rush them and have everything so last minute.”

“Wise as ever,” he whispered softly, letting his lips drift down to yours, kissing you with a gentle, saccharine taste, “dinner will be soon - we can retire after that.”

“That sounds perfect, my love.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest as you laid there in bed, trying to seem like you were sleeping. Oberyn was lightly snoring next to you, an arm curled around your waist as you planned on how to move out of his grip and slip out of the bed without him noticing. You went to bed in your clothes, claiming you were too tired to even bother removing them. Oberyn, seeming to be actually as tired as you felt, hadn’t questioned you, instead only pulling off his tunic as all but collapsed next to you and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Moving slowly, ever so gently as you lifted his arm up and scooted out from under him, replacing your body with one of the many pillows. He made a small sound and moved ever so slightly as you went and grabbed your cloak from the wardrobe. A heavy sigh left your lips as you watched his sleeping form; you hated lying to him and sneaking out, but it appeared you had no other choice. Tying the cloak around your neck, you ensured that the dagger was still strapped to your thigh as you quietly left the room.

Now all you needed was a clear coast as you navigate your way through the palace. Luckily it was late, very late, and almost the entirety of the household seemed to be sleeping. It made it a breeze to get towards the back, where the stables were, and where your favorite mare was waiting for you. It warmed your heart to see her, even under the less than desirable circumstances. She was hitched and ready to go, with her saddlebags filled with things you would need for your journey. Asha really had come through for you; you’d thank her a million times over when you got back, and make sure that Oberyn knew she was not privy to your real plans.

“Hi sweet girl,” gave her a few pets before kissing the side of her muzzle and hoping onto her back. It was so much easier to do this when Oberyn was around to help you...but no. You weren’t going to dwell on that right now, “we’ve got a ways to go, I hope you’re ready for an adventure.”

She made a small sound as you grabbed her reins and slowly spurred her on. As you started to lead her away from the palace, you turned around and cast one last look back at your home. You spied Asha lurking nearby in the shadows and cast her a small wave. She didn’t reciprocate, instead offering you only a small nod before turning back inside. Whatever happened next it would change things one way or another. Things would be different now.

But you could only look ahead as you headed towards Honeyholt.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Oberyn’s voice was thick with sleep as he rolled over and reached out for you. His brows knitted together before his eyes snapped open when he realized that you weren’t there, providing only silence and a cold, empty spot. He sat up and looked around, running a hand through his curls as he woke himself up. It was no matter, he quickly decided, despite the fact that nothing was better than waking up next to you, there were often mornings when he had to leave before you or vice versa as duty dictated. He dressed himself in silence as he figured he would see you at breakfast or sometime after. No reason to fret or worry.

It was another beautiful in Sunspear, the sun high and golden as it cast its warm light over everything it touched. He greeted a few members of his household, stopping by the kitchen to pop in and grab a handful of berries, chiding by the people working as usual, before making his way into the garden.

He picked the spot where the sun was the brightest and sat down, but not before preparing himself a plate of food. As he let the light warm him up from inside out, he decided that he later he’d take you to the ocean, if you were willing. He’d shown you a lot, but one of the places you hadn’t shared together was the beautiful Dornish coast. He just had a feeling you’d like it there, and that you could both swim in the crystalline waters together.

“Good morning, Uncle,” Arianne pulled him out of his thoughts as she announced her arrival and sat down next to him. He cast her a smile before grabbing a spoonful of fresh yogurt and putting it in his mouth, “it’s nice to have you both back. A little light around the place - say, just where is our favorite lady of the house?”

“I don’t...you haven’t seen her?” he asked as confusion muddied his features, “she wasn’t there when I woke up...I assumed she had risen earlier and already broken her fast?”

“I haven’t seen her,” she shook her head, as one of the people tended to the garden mentioned he’d been working all morning and hadn’t seen hide nor hair of you, “well, I’m sure it’s fine. She must be out and doing something in the town.”

“I suppose,” his heart skipped a beat as he tried to calm himself down and reassure himself that everything was fine. As he continued eating, a looming sense of doom washed over him…something was off, “no, no - this isn’t right. She wouldn’t do something like that. Not without telling one of us, or someone seeing her.”

“Perhaps someone has seen her,” she insisted as he all but jumped out of his seat, “there is no reason to worry.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he stormed inside and decided to find Asha. The young girl looked up to you, as both your friend and hand maiden, and if there was someone that knew where you were, it would be her. He looked around the palace, finding her hard to come by, almost as if she was making herself scarce.

Eventually, after seemed like a small eternity, he found her tending to the laundry that was drying outside. She seemed tired, quiet and keeping to herself, which was very unlike the young girl he knew, “Asha.”

She almost jumped and dropped the laundry in her arms as she spotted Oberyn walking over to her. She gave him a weak smile before dropping her head in respect, “Prince Oberyn.”

“Have you seen my wife?” he skipped the formalities and watched her face almost pale as she opened and closed her mouth a few times, “I haven’t seen her this morning, neither have people around the palace or Arianne. Perhaps you know of her whereabouts?”

“I-I-I have not seen her this morning,” she admitted, and while it wasn’t a complete lie, she immediately knew something was wrong. Her gut instincts had been right yesterday; you were going around Oberyn’s back and not being honest with either of them. Gods, she should have just listened to her inner voice and come to Oberyn. What was she supposed to do now?

“When did you last see her?” he asked as she racked her brain for an answer, “I need to know.”

“I...I spoke to her yesterday upon your return as you are aware,” she decided that beating around the bush was the best answer, “and she...I haven’t seen her since.”

“What happened? What did she tell you?” he wished he could shake the answers out of her but refrained, instead just looked at her with nervous eyes, “Asha…”

“She...ummm...I don’t know…”

“Where is my wife?!”

“Honeyholt,” she finally admitted after a few beats of silence as Oberyn’s heart sank. That was not what he’d been expected whatsoever. A million thoughts raced through his mind as nothing but panic and worry set into his bones, “she’s returning to Honeyholt.”

“I do not know if you understand the gravitas of the situation,” he grabbed her shoulders and she could easily spot the worry in his eyes, “but this is anything but good.”

“I’m sorry - I’m so sorry...she promised me that you knew…” she had started crying, a few tears running down her face.

“I need my own horse readied for departure. Post haste,” he told her, “but first I need you to tell me everything. Now.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn x reader #oberyn x reader #in name only #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #got

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sweetcerac · 2 years ago

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In The Mood For Fall Reads

Autumn is in the air, pumpkins are in the grocery stores, and Spirit Halloween stores are popping up in those random empty store fronts. It's that time of year to get in the spooky mood! Here's my list of spooky reads you should definitely give a try.

Glass Houses by Rachel Caine

"College freshman Claire Danvers has had enough of her nightmarish dorm situation. When Claire heads off-campus, the imposing old house where she finds a room may not be much better. Her new roommates don't show many signs of life, but they'll have Claire's back when the town's deepest secrets come crawling out, hungry for fresh blood. Will she be able to face the town's terror or will she drown like everyone else?"

Such an awesome Vampy YA series! Rachel Caine wrote such an amazingly detailed world with Morganville, Texas. A vampire city with vampire rules for the resident humans to fear and dark secrets to uncover that could change the game. Her heroine is small but so fierce in Claire Danvers. Purely driven to be a scientist, her analytical brain helps her stay rational in the face of danger. Plus her room mates/true friends are such great compliments to her, including a hot broady musician named Michael Glass. I highly recommend the whole series!

Wake The Hollow by Gaby Triana

"Forget the dead, Mica. It’s real, live people you should fear.

Tragedy has brought Micaela Burgos back to her hometown of Sleepy Hollow. It’s been six years since she chose to live with her father in Miami instead of her eccentric mother. And now her mother is dead.

This town will suck you in and not let go.

Sleepy Hollow may be famous for its fabled headless horseman, but the town is real. So are its prejudices and hatred, targeting Mica’s family as outsiders. But ghostly voices carry on the wind, whispering that her mother’s death was based on hate…not an accident at all. With the help of two very different guys—who pull at her heart in very different ways—Micaela must awaken the hidden secret of Sleepy Hollow…before she meets her mother’s fate.

Find the answers.

Unless, of course, the answers find you first."

This book has the Sleepy Hollow vibes you didn't know you needed! Micaela's Mom's death forces her back to her hometown of headless horseman infamy. While connecting with her old friends and family, she finds shocking secrets that make her question her Mom's death. Not to mention two hot guys vying for her attention and the headless man himself making an appearance. I loved this ghostly thrill ride that I like to revisit when the air gets crisp.

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

"After receiving a frantic letter from her newly-wed cousin begging for someone to save her from a mysterious doom, Noemí Taboada heads to High Place, a distant house in the Mexican countryside. She’s not sure what she will find—her cousin’s husband, a handsome Englishman, is a stranger, and Noemí knows little about the region.

Noemí is also an unlikely rescuer: She’s a glamorous debutante, and her chic gowns and perfect red lipstick are more suited for cocktail parties than amateur sleuthing. But she’s also tough and smart, with an indomitable will, and she is not afraid: Not of her cousin’s new husband, who is both menacing and alluring; not of his father, the ancient patriarch who seems to be fascinated by Noemí; and not even of the house itself, which begins to invade Noemí’s dreams with visions of blood and doom.

Her only ally in this inhospitable abode is the family’s youngest son. Shy and gentle, he seems to want to help Noemí, but might also be hiding dark knowledge of his family’s past. For there are many secrets behind the walls of High Place. The family’s once colossal wealth and faded mining empire kept them from prying eyes, but as Noemí digs deeper she unearths stories of violence and madness.

And Noemí, mesmerized by the terrifying yet seductive world of High Place, may soon find it impossible to ever leave this enigmatic house behind."

A creepy gothic estate in the remote countryside of Mexico where the walls actually pulse? What?!? The story follows Noemi, a socialite from Mexico City, on a mission to save her beloved cousin, Catalina, from her super weird husband and family. When Catalina has a moment of clarity and sends a letter of distress to Noemi, Noemi insists on swooping in and bringing her home. But this spooky manor is more like a spider's web than she bargained for and she gets sucked into staying. Fortunately for her, her determined curious nature has her poking through all the secrets she can uncover.

The Move by Laura M. Drake

"Selena knows that haunted houses are only real in movies.

Or are they?

When Selena moves to a sleepy Oregon town with her dad, she knows her life will be different than the one in California she left behind. But before they even finish unpacking, she realizes that everything isn’t as it seems. As the hauntings escalate in your home the neighborhood kids call “The Snatcher,” Selena realizes that no one is safe.

With the help of a cute neighbor boy, will Selena be able to solve the mystery behind the vengeful ghost before time runs out? Or is it already too late?"

This whole series was a spooky delight to read. A haunted house with a vengeance spirit that actually snatches people! Selena moves into this house with her father without any of this useful information about it's history beforehand. Luckily, she meets a guy in her new town, Lincoln, who has an extensive knowledge of Japanese Yokai (ghosts!) and totally kissable lips. Together they navigate the creaks and flickers in her haunted house as they investigate what this ghost actually wants from them.

The Carrow Haunt by Darcy Coates

""The dead are restless here..." Remy is a tour guide for Carrow House, a notoriously haunted building. When she's asked to host seven guests for a week-long stay to research Carrow's phenomena, she hopes to finally experience some of the sightings that made the house famous.

At first, it's everything they hoped for. Then a storm moves in, cutting off their contact with the outside world, and things quickly become twisted. Doors open on their own. Seances go disastrously wrong. Red liquid seeps from behind the wallpaper. Their spirit medium wanders through the house during the night, seemingly in a trance.

Then one of the guests dies under strange circumstances, and Remy is forced to consider the possibility that the ghost of the house's original owner, a twisted serial killer, still walks the halls.

But by then it's too late to escape."

Remy loves haunted houses, so she takes the job as a tour guide at a specifically horrifying one. She loves the history and researching the houses she works at and becomes so knowledgeable about the Carrow House that a particularly handsome visitor on one of her tours asks her if he could book a week long stay to hunt the ghosts. Slamming doors, apparitions, a seance, and death! Things get real quickly and the group have to figure out how to escape! Not only a really awesome scary book, but I loved the relationship building between the characters. I like a little romance with my scares. Boo! Aww!

A Breath Of Frost by Alyxandra Harvey

"In 1814, three cousins—Gretchen, Emma, and Penelope—discover their family lineage of witchcraft when a binding spell is broken, allowing their individual magical powers to manifest. Now, beyond the manicured gardens and ballrooms of Regency London, an alluring underworld available only to those with power is revealed to the cousins. By claiming their power, the three cousins have accidentally opened the gates to the underworld.

Now ghouls, hellhounds—and most terrifying of all, the spirits of dark witches known as the Greymalkin Sisters—are hunting and killing young debutante witches for their powers. And, somehow, Emma is connected to the murders…because she keeps finding the bodies.

Can the cousins seal the gates before another witch is killed… or even worse, before their new gifts are stripped away?"

I am such a sucker for old time London and witches! I fell in absolute love with this series! Gretchen, Emma, and Penelope are very close and going through all the society protocols of the Regency era together with the balls and soirees. The Lovegrove cousins are far from swooning debutantes. They discover they are witches! Emma is very studious and loves to read. Gretchen is pretty bad ass and hates that the men get to do all the fun things, while the women practice their curtsy. And Penelope likes the idea of balls and soirees and practicing her embroidery, but she is no push over. Besides magic, there are magical creatures, a goblin market, romance, and more! Think of this series as a kind of Bridgerton murder mystery with magic! The last book is Kindle only, just in case you devour this series like I did.

Firelight by Kristen Callihan

"Once the flames are ignited . . .

Miranda Ellis is a woman tormented. Plagued since birth by a strange and powerful gift, she has spent her entire life struggling to control her exceptional abilities. Yet one innocent but irreversible mistake has left her family's fortune decimated and forced her to wed London's most nefarious nobleman.

They will burn for eternity . . .

Lord Benjamin Archer is no ordinary man. Doomed to hide his disfigured face behind masks, Archer knows it's selfish to take Miranda as his bride. Yet he can't help being drawn to the flame-haired beauty whose touch sparks a passion he hasn't felt in a lifetime. When Archer is accused of a series of gruesome murders, he gives in to the beastly nature he has fought so hard to hide from the world. But the curse that haunts him cannot be denied. Now, to save his soul, Miranda will enter a world of dark magic and darker intrigue. For only she can see the man hiding behind the mask."

Another series set in old time London, this time Victorian London. The story has a Beauty and Beast esque aspect to it with some Phantom of the Opera feels. Toss in a little Firestarter, swirl things around, and you get a magical tale of power, fear, and love. Miranda can't control her powers and a tall, dark, and handsome stranger with a gruffness "rescues" her with a proposal of marriage. While Miranda isn't entirely sure of this mysterious hunk, the bodies start sprouting up and with his reputation scaring the locals, who can anyone believe that this guy is innocent? This whole entire series is amazing and I most highly recommend all of them and wish there were more books!

Unbreakable by Kami Garcia

"I never believed in ghosts. Until one tried to kill me.

When Kennedy Waters finds her mother dead, her world begins to unravel. She doesn’t know that paranormal forces in a much darker world are the ones pulling the strings. Not until identical twins Jared and Lukas Lockhart break into Kennedy’s room and destroy a dangerous spirit sent to kill her. The brothers reveal that her mother was part of an ancient secret society responsible for protecting the world from a vengeful demon — a society whose five members were all murdered on the same night.

Now Kennedy has to take her mother’s place in the Legion if she wants to uncover the truth and stay alive. Along with new Legion members Priest and Alara, the teens race to find the only weapon that might be able to destroy the demon — battling the deadly spirits he controls every step of the way."

This is my latest spooky read from this past year. In the mood for ghosts? This story has ghosts in spades! Scary vengeance ghosts that need to be battled. Meet Kennedy Waters. Her Mom is killed by a ghost and two hot brothers rescue her from being killed by the same ghost. That's when Kennedy's whole world view is changed forever and she hits the road to battle the evil spirits with a group of kids call the Legion. Members whose parents have also died and passed down a magical legacy upon their deaths. Kennedy is learning on the go, but definitely struggling with the idea that her Mom was a Legion member too. A secret society fighting darkness? Fantastic spooky read that makes me need the whole series now!

#books #goodreads #autumn #spooky #spooky reads #halloween #halloween reads

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anjaelle · 4 years ago

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Heavy Weight

Pair: Boxer!August Walker x Black!OFC Warnings: Mention of Blood, Mention of Bruising, Mentions of Depression, Mention of Abuse, Mention of Self Harm; Some comfort. Summary: The various ways in which a man learns about vulnerability. Word Count: 1.5k a/n: This is some dark shit. Idk where this came from, and I’m sorry if it triggers someone. I tried not to be too graphic. More of the focus is on him than the relationship, if that makes sense.

________________________________________________________

“Tell me... if I’m doing too much,” he sighed between kisses, “tell me if you need me to let up.”

She smiled against his mouth, placing a splayed hand on his firm chest, “I will.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

The very first time he touched her, he worried that his hands were too rough with callouses. It was something that weighed heavy on this mind, so much so that it may have affected his performance. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything about it. She was too polite to do things like that, so of course she wouldn’t.

Sometimes he questioned why she stayed with someone who couldn’t relax. She pressed her delicate fingers into the muscles of his back and joked that the tension could crack a diamond. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, allowing himself to fall deeper into the softness of her. This time, his hands tangled into her thick curls as he placed kisses along the curve of her throat. She giggled, and it sounded like a melodic bell.

He wanted to shield her from the world he came from. Women like her couldn’t handle the brutality of his life, and he wouldn’t blame them. It just meant that he didn’t spend much time getting invested. When she asked to see him fight, he shut her down immediately, claiming that it wasn’t her scene. It resulted in a small argument, and she conceded. But it was a hollow victory when he came home to an empty apartment. Eventually he offered a compromise: she could watch the match from home. It was the only way he could stomach it--he couldn’t bear to imagine her face in the crowd as he used the hands she loved for violence.

And then he lost.

And he came home bitter and tired. She reached up to brush his hair from his swollen eye and he flinched away from her before excusing himself to go to the bathroom. As soon as he found the strength to confront her, she pressed a bag of frozen peas to his face in an effort to bring the swelling down. He protested. She underestimated how much battering he could take, and he told her as much, forcing a grin on his split lips.

“I’m a big boy,” he semi-joked, “I’ll be alright.”

He wouldn’t touch her that night. He couldn’t. His knuckles were bruised, and his mouth was bloody. He was angry about losing, and he didn’t want to be held or kissed. Instead he spent the night on the couch, watching footage of his father in his prime. Every time she checked on him, he murmured that he’d be in bed soon, only choosing to go to bed when he was sure she was asleep and wouldn’t ask him questions.

The second time she watches him fight, she calls him as soon as its over. The high of victory doubles when he hears her voice, and he just wants to go home to her.

“You did so well, baby!” She exclaims, “I’m so proud of you. We have to celebrate!”

Instead the crew took him to a bar without her. He lost count of how much whiskey he drank, how many girls he ignored, how many pats on the back he received from strangers. And as the night progressed, and the alcohol wore off, the guilt hit him like a freight train.

When he finally arrived home, she was asleep on the couch, curled up in one of his gym hoodies that fit snugly in some places and baggy in others. For once, he was glad he sobered up before he came home. He didn’t want to forget this image. He picked her up, and she mumbled tiredly into his shoulder.

“You didn’t come home...” she sighed.

“I tried. I’m sorry.”

He removed his liquor stained shirt and jeans, and crawled into bed with her, placing kisses on her forehead.

“Don’t leave me behind, okay?” she said. He wasn’t sure what she meant. Maybe she was talking in her sleep. He swallowed hard and held her close.

“I won’t.”

The third time she watches him fight, he loses again. And she watches him shrink into himself, live on national television. He came home bruised and battered, but he forced a smile on his face when she greeted him at the door. It didn’t meet his eyes, and she noticed. She made an attempt to ask if he was okay, and as usual he brushed it off as just disappointment.

It was more than that, and they both knew it.

Once again, he refused to touch her. She reached out to rub his back as he passed her in the kitchen, and he flinched, his shoulders tensing up.

“What’s wrong?” She asked with pleading eyes, “Does something hurt?”

He hesitated and sighed, “A little.”

That was a start.

He held her hand as she led him to the bathroom, and he effortlessly lifted her onto the countertop so that they were eye-level.

“Let me look at you,” she gently commanded, which brought a small spark of amusement to his eyes. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips.

“So you’re going to play doctor now?”

“Shush,” she cupped his face in her hands and kissed his crooked nose.

She applied ointment to the cuts on his knuckles and wrapped them up with a kiss. His heart melted. “Looks good,” he said, flexing his hand, “I might have to let you in the locker room before the matches.”

She smiled brightly at the compliment, “See! I can help, sometimes. You should let me do this more often. Y’know?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “Didn’t I tell you not to leave me behind? Let me take care of you, August.”

Something crossed his features. It was the first time she’d ever seen it.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He confessed, grasping her face in his hands.

He pressed a long kiss to her soft lips. For once, he willed himself to forget the events of the night. He wrapped her thighs around his hips and sighed into her mouth. She felt his heartbeat thud rapidly against her chest, and his breathing picked up. Suddenly she felt the wetness on her cheeks.

“Babe,” she tried to pull away, but he moved to kiss down her neck, “Baby...”

He said nothing but pulled her closer to rest his head on her shoulder. Suddenly he hyperventilated and his body shook with sobs. Despite his comparatively massive frame, he felt so small in her arms as she held him and let him cry.

It took some time to open up. She made the suggestion based on her own experiences, but it was ultimately his decision to take the leap. He was uncomfortable. He didn’t really like talking. But he was tired of feeling angry all the goddamn time.

“Why are you a boxer?”

“I guess it seemed like the best case scenario? I’ve always been a good fighter. I might as well get paid to punch people in the face. It’s a better use of my time and energy.” And his anger. But that didn’t seem like something he wanted to admit. He didn’t want the guy to think he was a lunatic with violence issues.

“How do you feel in the ring?”

“I don’t know. Fine, I guess. Sometimes it just feels like a game. Like a strategy thing...I hate losing though.”

He scribbled something down on his stupid yellow notepad.

“Well, that’s understandable. Losing sucks.”

“Yeah, but it feels like an extra punch in the gut. I just really hate losing. It makes me feel like I shouldn’t even have my job in the first place.”

Doctor So-and-So raises his eyebrows behind his thick rimmed glasses.

“Why do you feel that way?”

“My job is to win matches. What the hell do I have to gain from losing them?” He chuckled bitterly, “I used to just let my cuts and bruises fester. Just so I’d remember how much the shit sucks and I won’t lose again. I feel like I only lose when I forget what losing feels like.”

There’s a heavy pause after that admission, and the therapist scribbles something else down.

“August, there’s no shame in failure. Why do you feel like you should punish yourself for human error?”

“How else will I improve?” He automatically said. Then he caught himself, dropping his head in his hands, “Fuck. Fuck that old bastard to hell. I thought that shit was normal,” he admitted. “I thought every guy dealt with this. It helped you build a thicker skin. I don’t think I’d have the career I do if it wasn’t for him. I always think, ‘whatever these guys hit me with, I’ve dealt with worse from my old man’.”

That was the first time he’d admitted any of this aloud. The feeling was strange, like a small weight lifted from his shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was something...

#august walker x black reader #henry cavill x female reader #august walker x reader #henry cavill x black ofc #henry cavill x black reader #august walker x ofc #ch: august walker #I'm so sorry auggie I'll be nicer to you in the next one I promise #jaelle writes #even if you are a dick

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years ago

Text

Last kiss

This is uhm, I took three days to even brainstorm this as a whole and it was supposed to involve a lot of other things but I decided to leave it here and see if you guys wanted to see more of this

Summary: Zeke confesses to you and all youre forced to have to bid your lover goodbye in hopes of sacrificing yourself for greater good.

Pairing: Levi/Reader, Zeke Yeager/Reader

Maybe you should have died back then, while reclaiming Shiganshina, with all of your other comrades before Zeke ever had a chance to lay his eyes on you. Maybe you should have been shot by Kenny or get eaten by a Titan on a casual expedition, anything would've been more preferable than having to listen to Zeke confessing to you.

"You understand this is something you can't tell to your subordinates right?"

This was pure, painful, agonizing torture. Sitting there with your back turned to him, hidden in the darkness of an alley. You didn't know how to respond and frankly you didn't even want to. It felt like daggers piercing through your thin sensitive skin, through your camel colored leather jacket.

"I don't know what you expect from me Zeke." You speak, just above your breath, back still turned to him and your eyes shut closed as you refused to spare a look on his form or even on his shadow.

In all honesty you don't feel like he expects something from you moretheless. Perhaps he enjoys having you cornered like a rat right then and there and perhaps this is his way of trying to get to Levi's head, to strip him of anything he has left and make him a weak opponent.

Then again if he wanted to get in his head he wouldn't be here, talking to you for all that matters. He's be attacking him.

"Come on! Why do you even associate yourself with that midget of man. I could-"

"Stop!"

"I could take you see the world and maybe-"

"Stop, really" You halt his speech once again, silently, as if you're trying not to wake him up from that idiotic dream world of his in which he thinks you can ever even have a shared future. This time you turn to look at him, wide eyes painted with agony, with hot flowing streaks of tears with watered eyes and clear stained cheeks. "You really think I can forgive a man who massacred my friends? You think you have any right to intervene between me and Levi?"

As he begs you to reconsider your beliefs, to have a chance of heart, you avert your gaze to the stone ground of the alleyway. You can't bear to spend your gaze on him not even if it's driven by rage. Not anymore. Yet you decide not to speak of your personal hatred towards him. You only mutter him a tiny 'I'll think about it' as you begin to stomp away.

It's not like Hange would ever advice you to engage so close with an enemy who slaughtered your comrades to no end that eventful day.

You're surprised when you find out she thinks otherwise to the point you regret ever speaking of it. Withholding important information on the enemy is treason, an act you are not about to commit for you've fought very hard for the people inside the walls to be alive an free. So why is Hange depriving you from living that way.

Steel grey eyes blink into yours with mutted rage as you speak of Zeke's words concerning their mighty owner. Not only was that blond bearded piece of shit the cause of all his comrades death he now had the audacity to claim you his most prized possession. Levi just despises the way Zeke thinks that everything belongs to him, how he's taken everything from him and now is launching on for more.

Levi, although he never speaks of it outloud, can see the look of horror and disgust plastered on your face as Hange encourages you to take a positive action against Zeke's proposal. And even the sound of it manages to pain him in ways he had never thought were possible.

"What if he kills her, Hange. What if this is all a plan and that's why he didn't want her telling us about it."

Hange answers in inaudible muffles, unsure of what to say or believe. He watches as you try to object, to shriek your way out of this horrible mess you're about to be put in and all because you love him. And Hange knows even if she refuses to bring it up at the moment, as if it means nothing to anyone.

"Dedicate your fucking heart, this is your oath!" His breath is cut short as he utters the words, looking directly in your eyes, flooding your insides with guilt and horror for what's to come next.

"No" it's a simple, rebellious reply, that you've only just decided to adopt when addressing him "I'm not doing anything if it means I'm going to lose you."

Levi bites his lower lip and squints his eyes shut; how can he ever even fathom having to endure seeing you in Zeke's arms and why should this be done for the sake of humanity. You weren't an object to be used against Zeke, he could scream of it at the top of his lungs if the circumstance even so slightly needed it.

"All I'm saying is, approach him."

"He won't believe me."

Hange explains that this weakness he's shown may be the end of him for all you've known, but Levi and you refuse to listen as you fix your pained eyes on each other with despair. It occurs to you that this may be the last time, hopefully in a while, that you ever get to encounter him like this and the thought proceeds to munch on your brain like maggots on a rotting corpse. You're lost in the moment, in his eyes, in Hange's earth shattering statements.

Nothing's fair in war and love you know yet it's difficult to even bat an eye in positive response to this plan as your heart is pressuring to know why you have to be the one to take a stand in taking out the enemy from within. But there's no such answer to your question. Humane emotions are unpredictable, unstable and unusual and in any other circumstance, it wouldn't be bad for Zeke to have fallen for anyone. Given your context though, not only was it bad, it was suffocating. You refused to have anything taken from Levi every again, yet here you are, stepping into the corpses of those words as his despairate eyes are pleading with you in silence.

_____

The plan is simple.

"Zeke?" Tears run down your eyes as your soft voice grazes his eardrums in the lowest of pained tones. He takes a look at your form, particularly in that muddy nightgown that adorns it and then your shoveled hair and that deadbeat expression in your watered orbs.

You reach out to him in the middle of the night, crying, wheezing, supposedly after a fight with Levi, anything to get his sympathy. Seeing his biased behavior over you this will be easy as blinking your eyes.

"P-please take me to see the world!" You utter and watch as Zeke's eyes widen with hard hidden happiness. He can only imagine what has went wrong that has made you decide to come to him but he never asks, nor does he ever ask about Levi, a fact that assures you his motives aren't what you had suspected.

And it tears your heart in a million little pieces in a way no titan ever could; the way he lifts a hand up to caress your cheek, they way his eyes glimmer with love, his ever so respectful movements towards you as if not to force you into anything. Those thoughts, those brain eating maggots are rapidly moving to your chest, to your stomach, everywhere in your body in hopes to leave you hollow, to assist you in that situation.

You don't have to give in to anything he wants. You can work your way around him and establish what you want but be prepared for anything. This is our only chance to be exposed to such a tremendous weakness. Our future is in your hands just as much as it's on our army. Don't let us down.

As that giant, disgusting, furry hand lifts you up from your feet your mind travels to your lover's chaste last kiss on your dry lips. The pleasurable happiness kisses like this would give you has now scattered away in greater sacrifice of this very moment. In the blink of an eye your life can be taken away from your mortal, expansible hands, fading into complete frightening darkness but what happens when all you're left with is a hollowed body who gets to experience pain and misery and no other option than to have to endure. Your heart is burning the insides of your chest, crawling up your skin with sharp claws that rip through flesh, but nothing ever happens. It never bursts, it never slows down it's beating either. You're only trapped, once again like a death sentenced rat, between Zeke's hand and your horrifying emotions.

It'll be over in no time, I promise you it's for the greater good.

Hey! I hope you enjoyed this 💕 if you want to see more leave a request in my askbox. Thank you for reading I love you all💞

#aot #snk #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #levi #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #attack on titan #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager #zeke aot #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman imagine #levi aot #angst

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internalsealpanic · 3 years ago

Text

The Mechanics of Living part 2

Summary: You trick Tim into going to a closed-off sector. Things go well. a/n: I will be doing a director’s cut for this is anyone is interested (by anyone I mean @glorified-red) Warnings: very slight body horror and gore

Main Masterlist

Tim Drake Masterlist

It was easiest to just tell Tim all the facts rather than rely on the goodwill you've built in 3 years to persuade him.

There's a reason sector 4-D was cordoned off last year. For some unknown reason, a section that had been little more than a concrete wasteland started teeming with infected life.

People say it was an abomination (An unidentifiable, Tim corrected but you still think abomination captured the appropriate dramatic for that.) that wandered in from farther in the waste. Some people say it was one of Bludhaven's beasts they let loose. You highly doubt Bludhaven was in any shape to contain whatever it is ravaging sector 4-D. After all, it wasn't in any better shape than Gotham was at the moment. You doubt it's ever been in better shape. They're like two cities constantly caught in this vortex of awfulness, looking at each other from two different sides thinking 'poor bastards'.

Sector 4-D was an easy hunting ground where young scavengers got their feet wet before they could move on. Now it was a dead zone, a dead zone with too much potential to pass up.

Like every sector, sector 4 was vast and unexplored and supposedly, there had been a library there. A building full of books and most importantly, medical textbooks.

You feel a little bad plucking at Tim's heartstrings when all you cared about was the payout. Appealing to the guy's sense of responsibility was kind of cheating but-- BUT! The specified textbooks do have stuff about bacteria and illnesses so you aren't really overstating their importance.

You try to push down the number of zeroes the man had shown you as you zip past a rusted sign.

You don't really trust anyone other than Tim to help you with this. Besides, all the other people who won't stab you after cashing in the reward probably don't know half as many words as Tim so you'll definitely need him to get the right books.

You stare at the rows of cars before you. They're overrun with weeds and vines and rust. A stark reminder that your Gotham is just a fraction of what it had been. You stop your bike in front of a taxi with a faded yellow body.

"This is it. This is where your life as an adventurer begins."

You swallow back the wave of nostalgia, letting the bike roll past it into the mess of cars to keep it a little more hidden. It isn't illegal to go to this sector yet. At least not when you checked but you really don't wanna gamble your Scavenger's license on clerical errors by either of your guilds.

Tim steps out of the sidecar, careful not to jostle Basil in his bag. You want to point out that you should probably wake the cat up otherwise you were wasting food on him but you knew better than to expect cooperation from Tim's fur ball from hell.

“So which theory about the illness do you think is the most plausible?” He asks, tucking the walkman away. You both thought it was stupid name but you didn’t really wanna question the teller. “The one that involves the least aliens.” You pause, narrowing your eyes at Tim whose hand is currently being eaten by his cat. “Or alien adjacent things.”

“So, you're one of those people who thinks the government did it.” Tim is *such* a little shit. Maybe that’s why his guild master gave him the most useless cat on the planet. Grade A my ass, you think staring at the furball nipping at his knuckles.

“Not on purpose, no.”

Tim raises a brow. “I didn't know you had that much faith in humanity.”

“Pffff, I think they just fucked up.”

“Here, I was accusing you of being optimistic.”

“A mistake really.”

You two come to a crossroads. A giant large yellow lantern hangs in the middle of the street, swaying listlessly in the air. It’s strange.

“Do you think the people in the old world used those to scare away the sick?”

“If they did,” he looks around, “it didn't work.”

Your eyes flit over the area. Stone walls crumble, vegetation willing in the cracks. Still, even with the overgrowth of life, the city feels hollowed out. Nearly a decade ago, you’d first laid a hand on one of the stone arches of the city hall just down by main street. Nearly a decade ago, you felt the stone crumble beneath the pads of your fingers. Nearly a decade ago, you had come the closest to knowing what it was like having the sickness. Even one of the great cities had been reduced to a fraction of its size.

“Do you think the color of the light matters?” Tim asks, pointing again to the lamp.

You squint. You hadn’t noticed it at first but yeah, the color of the lights was different.

“Maybe,” you tilt your head, “or maybe the people from before were just idiots.”

“You just have a bad opinion of them, don’t you?”

“Like you don’t.” You shoot back, tapping your bat against your boot.

Tim rolls his eyes and shrugs.

You try to smile at that but something’s wrong. Your skin bristling, the air is stale despite the wind. You watch the lantern sway back and forth, the thin wires holding it up, fragile and precarious. A bad feeling crawls up your spine.

There’s a pressure in the air, the atmosphere turning into a vacuum.

Basil hisses, looking as vicious as he can.

The wind stops.

The skittering voices rise like the fluttering of locust wings.

A writhing mass, pulsing and menacing, blots out the horizon. It opens its maw to wheeze and the stench of rot floods the air. Your insides curdle and wilt from the intensity of the putrid odor. Once the *thing* draws another breath, the skittering begins again and this time you know where it’s from.

You can see it in the way its neck twists and undulates, its rotting flesh rippling as the fragmented voices rasp out of its throat. Its limbs, deformed, move unnaturally as it ambles towards you.

You stare at it. Your limbs unmoving. That thing *is* an unidentifiable. In all technicality, it fits the neat taxonomy laid out by experts. It is neither man nor beast. Its form corrupted beyond recognition. It’s rotting and shambling. But the thing you are looking at cannot simply be sorted neatly because it is what it is.

A creature that god himself did not touch.

An abomination.

You splay a hand on Tim’s chest, pushing him back lightly. Glancing at each other, you nod as you slowly step back into an alley. You quietly curse Gotham’s gloomy weather for the thing’s appearance. You thought you would have at least ‘til sundown to look for loot before having to flee to a safer sector. But when in Gotham, nothing is ever certain even the rising of the sun.

All you have to do is be quiet. Easy enough. Being silent is the first thing you learn to be in this world.

It blinks at you.

It. Blinks. At. *You.*

Your heart stops, the blood running in your veins turning into lead.

Dozens of eyes blink at you. They’re not all human from the looks of them. It opens its maw again, your muscles bunch up in anticipation of its miasmal breath. The discordant voices coming from its mouth coalesce into a horrible sob.

Tim grabs your wrist and pivots towards an alley. The sudden change in movement shocks your body awake. You scoop Basil up and bolt down the alley, letting Tim lead the way.

Desperately, You try to concentrate on the scuff of your shoes against pavement instead of the creak of limbs and the plop of flesh as it drips off the creature. The pinching of Tim’s features tells you he’s doing the same.

You round the corner, shoulder hitting brick, narrowly avoiding dozens of hands reaching for you. Basil yowls and hisses and you would apologize but your shoulder is screaming at you and goddammit Basil, we have bigger issues.

You and Tim squeeze into a space between the buildings seemingly too small for that thing’s gelatinous form. You make the mistake of looking back only to see its limbs skitter up the building and down the other end of the alley. It smiles at you, rows of teeth glittering in the sparse light.

This was it.

This is where your life ends.

Where else is there to go?

You expect the acceptance to come in like a flood or relief. Life was hard with very little room for breath. Scraping by, tooth and nail, knuckles bleeding for every scrap of stability. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You suddenly feel so tired like the adrenaline had been keeping you together for the past few years. Acceptance should have come easy.

But it doesn’t.

You open your eyes to glance at Tim, finally resignation sets. His features are still pinched and his hand is trembling beside yours. You really did screw this one up big time, huh?

You bite your cheek.

Watching Tim’s mind work, you know you have to keep him alive. You squeeze Tim's hand. He narrows his eyes at you. You give him a crooked smile and let his hand fall.

You pivot, foot pushing against the pavement as you launch yourself to the other end of the alley.

If your estimates are correct, you can buy him 15 minutes. 15 minutes would be more than enough for him to make it back to the bike--

Tim yanks on your hood, throwing open a door. The creature howls as Tim hurls both of you into the building.

"What the heck was that?!" Tim screams.

"A Dick." You answer, rubbing your head. fuck. Tim could throw.

"No! You were being fucking stupid."

You scowl at him in the dark. "Thanks Tim. I get it."

"No, you don't!"

"Can we argue--"

The door rattles and shakes. A fist-shaped dent embeds itself on the metal door. You glance at each other before scrambling towards the very safe-looking stairs.

You fly up the steps like hell was on your heels and as far as you're concerned, it was. You wrench Tim's bag from him and you're half tempted to throw him over your shoulder as well but you're not sure the stare case can hold that much weight.

If you climb to the roof-- If you... climb... It can climb. Fuck.

You and Tim seem to come to the same conclusion as you throw yourselves into another door.

You shove a sofa in front of the door and sit on it.

"Please tell me you've miraculously come up with a plan." You hiss glancing over to Tim who's staring at the window.

He glances over his shoulder to look at you. "If I could pull off miracles, you wouldn't be so dumb."

You sigh. Ok, yeah. He has every right to be mad. It was an incredibly stupid move but it's a numbers game and yeah.

Tim runs his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. He needs to come up with something. He glances out the window. He walks over and leans out the window.

"We should jump."

"Would you like to elaborate?" You wheeze, still not really letting go of a

"Follow me."

"Tim, I have never trusted you less in my life." You snort, quietly. But you make your way to the window. You set Basil down and look at what Tim is pointing to. There's a dumpster filled to the brim with trash. There doesn't seem to be any infected mice in there and the road to the right is a straight shot back to the bike.

You lick your lips.

"So we're on the same page."

"Uh, if that means what I think it means then yes."

Tim lets out a breath as he opens the window as quietly as possible. You listen to the steady beat of limbs thumping against the wood. You hold a collective breath. The window clicks into place with a loud snikt.

The thumping stops.

You practically shove Tim out the window while you stare at the door. It rattles and shakes. A screech erupts the stairwell as you jump out the window. You land with a thump, sinking beneath the mounds of plastic.

Your heart is hammering and pressing into your throat. Its beat is in sync with the steady thump of the limbs. The wet squelching of rotting flesh scraping against the rusted metal of the dumpster. You want to heave but Tim shoves a hand in your face. You gag silently. Tim's hand smells putrid from the trash.

You hold your breaths until the thumping goes away. You don't dare breathe until Basil settles down.

You fall limp against the trash. Your limbs feel like jelly. You gag. Thinking about jelly right now is probably the worst thing for your health.

Tim nudges you with his foot. You turn your body over as quietly as you can.

You watch him make shapes with his hands. You frown. You cycle through your memory trying to remember what the gestures mean then let go of Basil when you do.

Basil rises from the trash, padding against the plastic.

When you hear Basil jump down to the pavement, you dig your way out of the trash.

"For the record, I hate your plans." You say, gagging.

"What was yours?" Tim fires back, dusting his hair.

"..."

"Just what I thought."

You're the first to climb out, holding your arms out to him mockingly. He silently threatens to curb stomp your face. You snort and tuck your hands to your side.

Thankfully, you make it to the bike without incident.

Tim tucks his body into the sidecar, occupying himself by comforting Basil. You hand him a bat as you start the bike.

"Just in case."

You kick the bike into gear as you two ride into the sunset.

You breathe a quiet breath, letting your eyes slip shut for a moment. The road is clear for about 14 breaths. That’s all you want to think about.

At the fourteenth breath, you open your eyes to an open expanse of road, endless and breathtaking. You turn to Tim and laugh. He gives you a sour look. You’ll just buy both of you some canned pineapples later and he’ll maybe forgive you. Basil certainly does as he doesn’t participate in Tim’s sour protest, opting instead to crawl into Tim’s bag.

Then you hear it above the roar of the engine.

The skittering.

Voices like the fluttering of wings.

It screeches, the raspy cry making your skin crawl. You don’t wanna look back. You don’t want to see the unnatural movement of its body as it bounds towards you.

You kick the bike to a higher gear. The engine will hate you but you can’t repair it if you’re dead.

The bike slows down. Tim stands up raising your bat over his head, bringing it down. It does not clang. The sound is squishier and moist. Your stomach rebels. Hazarding a glance behind you, you see the writhing mass holding onto your bike.

“TIM,” you shout.

“I--” Swing “-- AM--” Swing “--A LITTLE--” Swing “--BUSY!” “THERE’S A CAN OF HAIRSPRAY IN MY DUFFLE.”

Tim ducks down, throwing you the bat. You swing wildly at the creature, summoning up a truly impressive bout of swearing.

Tim sprang up, nearly falling off the sidecar if not for you grabbing his shirt. Tim flicked the lighter, pressing down on the nozzle of the spray, and unleashing fire on the beast. The thing cries, voice shattering as it burns. You watch its flesh burn. Oh, what a pleasure it was to see it burn.

"We are never doing this again!" Tim wheezes.

"Of definitely fucking not." You bark, kicking the bike to a higher gear. The purring of the engine sounds like music to your ears.

"We are definitely doing easy sectors by a bit." You laugh.

When you don’t hear a snarky remark, you glance to your sidecar. Tim is slumped into his seat, breathing hard. You raise your brow but turn your attention to the road. You shake him. You shake him again and again.

Tim doesn't respond.

You pull your hand away and it’s slick with blood.

______________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading!!!!

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @bungunz , @birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red @ marshmallow12435 @vvipgot7be @jadedhillon @notsostraightweeb

#tim drake x reader #tim drake imagines #Tim Drake #post apocalypse

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animeyanderelover · 4 years ago

Note

I'd love to see Hashirama with prompt 74. “As long as you love me everything is alright. You…you do love me, right?”

👍.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, delusions, clinginess, angsty stuff

Prompt 74: “As long as you love me everything is alright. You...you do love me, right?”

You remembered that there had been often times where you had wished that Hashirama would just calm down since he was often a lot to deal with. He was always so clingy and the amount of affection he gave you was nearly suffocating, not to mention that you hadn’t forgotten the incident with your clothes. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem in here. No, that all was terrible too, but could be ended by a breakup. And that was the worst in here. Leaving him would be as good as impossible. Not only was there the danger of the whole village being disappointed in you as well as having his furious little bro in your neck, but Hashirama himself could possess quite the threat. He was Hokage. He had power. He could ruin you and your family’s life if he felt like and even get away with it. As much as Hashirama was a sunshine and almost a bit like a child, you had catched up onto one thing at some point into this relationship. Hashirama had a dark side to him. Everyone had, you knew that. You had one as well. But it became dangerous when this dark side was able to ruin someone else like Hashirama was. Luckily he didn’t let this side out very often, it was rarely seen because around you he was always the loving and smothering husband. But that made it also so much more terrifying if this side of him came out. Because it was almost like witnessing a nightmare in real life when seeing this man getting serious and mad.

But you had never seen him like this. He seemed so...so discouraged. So hopeless. So small. You had expected that he would be depressed after Madara had left the village, the man he had considered as his best friend. The man who he had happily introduced you to, the man who he had always stood up for, the man who had betrayed him and had attacked him. You couldn’t even image how hard this must have been for him. And the comments from Tobirama hadn’t really helped at all. He had just scolded him that he should have listened to him before and that he had been right after all about Madara. You and Mito had to literally hit him on his head to snap him out of his lecturing speech and help him realize how devastated Hashirama had looked. You had often seen him sulking about something or being depressed over more childish things. But this had only lasted for a short while, not concerning you too much at the end of the day. He had always been able to get over those small things very quickly and go back to his more goofy self. And that was the thing that had you currently worry the most. He hadn’t gone back to his old self. Instead he had been those last few days after the incident more quiet and thoughtful than usual, causing you to worry yourself almost sick over him. But the most heartbreaking thing you had witnessed so far was how needy he had suddenly gotten. It wasn’t the usual clingyness, it was almost like a desperation, a desire to know that you wouldn’t leave him like his friend had.

“Hey Hashi. What’s wrong?” Hashirama turned slightly surprised, slightly tired around when hearing your soft voice calling him. It was early morning, the sky still dark and most people would have still payed soundly asleep in bed. But not you two. When his gaze met yours he gave you a small smile. But it didn’t look like the ones he usually gave you. Of course there was still warmth and eternal love in it, but he also looked exhausted as well as if he was in pain. “Oh. Hey, darling. I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep. Go back to bed, it’s still pretty early.” You didn’t move, instead glancing with eyes filled with sadness at him. He looked so incredibly vulnerable as hunched over as he was sitting on the couch. Where was the once so energetic and always happy guy who you had so often a day called a moron because he had done something stupid? Where had that man gone? And when would he come back? You couldn’t just let him sit here and let him drown in self sorrow. You had to do at least try to do something for him. He had done so much for you too. So you slowly made your way over to the couch, slowly sitting down next to him. He didn’t react, instead staring with a hollow yet also sorrowful look in his eyes in the space, telling you what he was seeing right now before his inner eye could only be seen by him. You felt a small “pang” in your chest when seeing him spacing out like this, his eyes having lost the light they used to always have inside of them. How could you have ever thought of his personality as annoying and too much? Had you ever even considered that this might have been the reason why he had been even able to reach the position he was currently in right now? He had worked more than anybody else to establish the village and make peace with the other villages. His sometimes almost careless and easygoing looking attitude had given people always courage and hope.

But now he looked so broken, like a small child who needed protection. Or just someone who would be there for you. And if this person had to be you then you would damn well do it. Everything to get him out of his misery, the whole atmosphere in the village had already started to change and became more gloomy due to their leader being on his knees. You sighed worriedly, laying your hand on top of his. Hashirama didn’t look at you, but was quick to grab your hand and intervene his fingers with you, the pressure he put on your hand being only a bit too tight as if being scared that something might happen at the moment. “Hashirama,”, the tone you used reminded you of the one your mother used to use on you, strict yet gentle,”please look me in my eyes.” You had the feeling that he needed a moment or two before your words finally seemed to register in his brain and you almost thought that he wanted to avoid looking you in your face by the way he turned so incredibly slowly his head around to meet your gaze. He was ashamed, you could tell from the way he didn’t dare to look you in your eyes, always looking quickly down whenever he managed to look you for a short second in your eyes. You tried to give him some time to adjust, waiting patiently until he seemed to be a bit less tense than before.

“It’s not your fault, you know. I mean with Madara.” It wasn’t a very wise decision to mention his name like this, but you had to directly talk with Hashirama about this, even though he stiffened when hearing his name again. “No one blames you Hashi. Not the village, not your clan, not your brother nor Mito. And me neither. We all know you tried your best. The best might sometimes not be enough, but it’s the will that counts. You don’t need to be perfect or anything like this. It was Madara’s decision and you couldn’t have done anything to help him. I understand that it must be hard for you to live with the knowledge that your best friend turned against you and that you had to fight him. It’s a heavy burden on your soul and heart, but you aren’t alone with this. You have so many people in your life who are there for you. You just have to look out of the window and see the village, the people in there who are willing to help you. As harsh as it may sound, but you have to eventually let go of him. I don’t demand from you to erase those memories of of you and him together, but I ask you to accept that you couldn’t have done everything to stop him and to stop thinking that it’s all your fault. There are people who need you right now. So please stop being so sad and try to live with it. And if you aren’t strong enough to carry this on your own, I’m here for you just like your brother, Mito and so many more. Alright?”

Hashirama stared shocked at you, looking like he hadn’t expected you to say this. But only a short moment later the impact of what you had just said hit him. You had never seen him that emotional before which caused your heart to clench from sadness seeing him like this. You could see the visible hurt in his eyes, the feeling of not being able to do anything and prevent it from happening, the hurt of being betrayed from someone you had known for such a long time. The thing that made it even more bitter for you was that you also saw some of the emotions his eyes always used to hold for you when looking at you. The adoration and infinite love he used to have and still had for you. Together with his somewhat forced yet also thankful and sincere smile it let you feel an emotion that you couldn’t name, not knowing how to feel about the dualism of feelings displayed on his face. “As long as you love me everything is alright.” When saying this he suddenly crawled closer towards you, hugging your waist and laying his head on your lap. And you felt like your heart had just shattered in your chest, witnessing this complete action of utter desperation from his side. He had just come crawling to you like an insecure child needing comfort.

“You...you do love me, right?” You glanced down at him, looking at his eyes that begged you silently to tell him you did. What was this? Why was he doing this? Was he afraid that you would leave him too just like Madara did? Was that the reason why he was acting so needy right now? Did he need to hear that you loved him that badly? There were so many quest swirling around in your mind, but you put them all for the moment aside, focusing on the man clinging tightly onto your waist and tugging slightly on the fabric of your pajamas, wanting, needing you to answer his question. And how could you have said no to him when he was in such a fragile state like right now. “Of course I do, Hashi. I always will.”

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere hashirama #yandere hashirama senju

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lightsinthedistancee · 4 years ago

Text

Darkness : Poe Dameron x Reader

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 1.4k

Excerpt: “Darkness is a time of peace for you. A time to crawl into soft sheets, to curl up against your pilot. Some nights, to feel him lazily press a soft kiss to your forehead before his breath levels out in sleep. Others, to feel his hands roaming your body, feel him inside you.”

Summary: A short talk to Poe is always enough to cure a case of loneliness.

Warnings: Some sexual references

A/N: This is for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. I actually originally meant for this to be a perhaps 500 word-ish Drabble but it ended up way longer obviously. But I’m really proud of it and love the concept of Writer Wednesday, so hope you guys enjoy! (Also, we’re just gonna pretend that phones and phone booths exist in the Star Wars universe...).

You’ve always found something lovely in darkness.

It’s simple, quiet, a constant that never changes, that rolls around at roughly the same time each night. Settles over cities and towns and every being in the galaxy in a thin blanket. Darkens faces into comforting anonymity, conceals the activities of lovers, provides peace in slumber for the weary.

There is a saying: One should not be afraid of the dark, but of what lies in it.

And after years of life, years of travel, years of experiencing the galaxy, you know that nothing sinister hides beneath darkness. No monsters, no demons, no ghosts. It is something that simply exists with no ulterior motive, something that is debatably hard to come by these days.

Darkness is a time of peace for you. A time to crawl into soft sheets, to curl up against your pilot. Some nights, to feel him lazily press a soft kiss to your forehead before his breath levels out in sleep. Others, to feel his hands roaming your body, feel him inside you.

In those times, darkness is there, still a constant. Hiding his features, hiding those eyes you adore during the daytime, allowing you to become entirely tactile, to simply feel him to the fullest, void of the distraction one’s most used method of perception, sight, provides.

Yet tonight is a rare night. Your feet hit pavement as you walk quickly, hands in your coat, head bent towards the ground. You’ve been on this Outer Rim planet for nearly two months, gathering intelligence undercover, maintaining little to no contact with the Resistance, and therefore, Poe.

The darkness seems stronger than ever tonight. It slithers up and down the sides of buildings, seems to wrap around you in strings. In this moment, it is not simply a cover—it is suffocating.

The loneliness had been getting to you. Too many days going by a name that is not your own, too many days living in constant fear, too many days away from the touch of someone that’s always able to take your mind off of everything.

And that’s exactly what you need right now. A distraction. A brief moment to bind you back to everything you know, something you are slowly, imperceptibly slipping away from in your mind. The buildings seem to tower over you, to dwarf you. It’s an intimidation act, and you feel it’s working.

It feels as if you can sink into the asphalt, become one with the soil that had been so cruelly compressed by man-made rock. As if you can sink beneath and become one with the dead, the figurative and the literal that had most likely been so barbarously worked to death to build this historic city in the dark days of the galaxy.

You round a bend, turning onto the main street, and your eyes, adjusted to the dark, flare painfully as light hits you. You snap them shut on instinct, flinching. However, the object of your discomfort is not an unknown. This route had been walked by you every day the last two months, and the light is the same phone booth you’d been using to transmit information back to the Resistance due to the anonymous, unmonitored, and therefore, rare quality of it.

It is hardly used anymore, for everyone has their own personal holos, and this one is particularly beat up. It’s translucent walls are cloudy, it’s metal backing dented. Nowadays, it is probable that is it only frequented by drunks and Spice addicts and, well…you.

There is something ironic about the fact that this small, dilapidated booth is your only connection back to D’Qar.

But not ironically, perhaps in a poetically symbolic manner, it also shines bright in the darkness, eradicates the very thing that had been suffocating you moments earlier. It is almost a physical embodiment of hope.

It is also a universal rule that hope births more hope, and an unwise desire comes over you. One that could put the whole operation at risk. But resisting the temptation, it hurts. It’s agonizing, and you want to give in to it. You want to hear one voice. One voice that can wrap you in softness, encourage your imagination to conjure up the sensation of his touch.

And before you know it, you’re in the booth, dialing a long string of numbers you’ve memorized by now. A voice of a communications officer sounds.

You state your name.

“Security code?” the officer asks.

“Six nine eight oh seven three.”

Your eyes nervously glance around. Despite having done this a few times, the experience still makes your heart race. You can only hope that any observer would see only an ordinary lone figure, silhouetted in the light, making an emergency call to a friend because she drank too much or got her wallet stolen.

“You got information?”

“No,” you respond, letting out a soft breath and lying through your teeth. “I need you to transfer me to Commander Dameron. I have a hunch regarding something naval, and I need his opinion.”

You silently chide yourself at your quickness to over explain.

But luckily, the communication officer says nothing. “Transferring now,” he says.

You thank him, leaning against the inner wall of the booth, hovering the phone directly next to your ear. Moments of silence pass before a voice breaks it.

“Hello?” says Poe.

Every point of tension in you seemed to relax in a moment as your eyes slowly close. The timbre of his voice washes over you, through you. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Sweetheart?” He sounds confused. Above all, tired.

“Did I wake you?” you ask, feeling bad all of a sudden. The high that had been coursing through your veins moments earlier plunges back to the ground. The intensity with which you feel it is irrational, yet nothing in you mind is steady.

“Yeah, but that’s okay,” he replies, a slight urgency to his voice. “Is something wrong?”

You picture him in your shared bed back on D’Qar, shirt off like usual. Propped up on one elbow, sheets falling to his waist, holo to his ear, concern on his features. Concern at his love calling him in the middle of the night, her voice shaking.

“Nothing’s wrong…I just…I….” Your voice trails off, and a silence a bit too long elapses.

“Baby?” he asks.

Your breath trembles slightly as you let it out. “This was a mistake,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, just—“

He interjects at the tone of finality in your voice. “Hey…don’t go, sweetheart.” You hear him shift, perhaps sitting up. “Just talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I miss you,” you blurt out. You’d meant to say it more eloquently, less directly, but that’s not something you have the energy for right now. “I miss everyone back on D’Qar. This assignment…it’s the most least contact with base I’ve ever had, and—why am I even telling you that? You know that.” You let out a frustrated breath, gathering your thoughts. He patiently waits, something you’re grateful for. “I’m just…having a hard time. That’s all.”

His energy transmits well through the phone. He’s thinking, the gears in his mind turning. You can feel the helplessness, for there is undeniably little he can do. “I miss you, too,” he finally says. “It’s a few more weeks, baby. I know you’ve got it in you…”

It’s a simple sentence, yet nearly reinvigorating in a way. Nothing that immediately lifts your mood, but perhaps something that briefly abates the hollow feeling within you.

“I’ll be there the moment you’re back.” His tone is soft, a little raspy with tiredness, slightly reminiscent of the way he tells you how much he loves and how amazing you are in a post-sex haze of exhaustion. It’s an odd relation, but the sense of peace that both tones hold is something you always cling to. “I’ll be there to kiss you. To hold you.” He pauses. “To take you to bed….”

The way his voice, on the last statement, walks the line between humorous and genuinely seductive makes you laugh quietly. It’s neither a common nor desirable combination.

“There’s that beautiful laugh,” he says softly, letting out a breath, returning to his previous demeanor. “I’ll be there, baby. I know you know that.”

You nod even though he can’t see you. Air brushes past your lips as your eyes flutter shut. “I know.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Taglist (for everything): @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl

Taglist (for Poe): @synical-paradox @spider-starry @paper-n-ashes

If you wish to be tagged on any of my future works, just let me know or do the form on my Masterlist if that’s easier!

Based on this Writer Wednesday pic:

#Writer Wednesday #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years ago

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sorry this is LONG but i feel like an issue for each of the boys would be feelings like they were a third wheel in the relationship of some sorts.

for bill he’d see these two childhood best friends turned lovers and feel like he’s invading on their destiny. with all their history and memories and inside jokes, he feels too new sometimes like he’s temporary. like one day he’ll end up a side character in their story, someone they’d wonder about in old age. yet the feeling always subsides and he realizes how loved he is.

for steve he finds himself feeling like a drag on billy and tommy’s fun relationship. he fears one day they’ll get sick of his worrying and his fussing and his neediness and realize they’d be happier with each other alone, with no one around to cry wolf when it comes to danger or simply cry all the time. but then they’ll soothe his tears, or cuddle up to him and thank him for stopping their impulsive decisions and he realizes they need him just as much as they need him.

for tom though, the feeling never really goes. it’s just stronger or weaker depending on the day. he feels inferior to both of his beautiful boys in every way, and fears that one day they too will realize how undeserving he is. he looks and steve and billy and they way they love one another as being starcrossed soulmates and himself as some stupid tag along, taking as much as he can get before what he believes is the inevitable. the breakup, the reveal that he meant nothing to them. that they’ve known all along that he was ugly, worthless, annoying and that very other dark thought he ever had about himself was true. he pulls away to lessen the hurt for himself, and it takes a lot of anger, frustration, and heartbreak before steve and billy realize what the true reasons behind tommy’s coldness really is.

i got it, dove 😏. and don’t apologize! thank you so much <3

</3

steve always saw how well tommy and billy just- linked. they were both so smart and impulsive and temperamental and fun. which meant that safety and caution was rarely considered between the two.

they never told steve shit.

one of the worst cases steve had to deal with was when they’d decided to key the principal’s car. all fun and game because the guy was an asshole. steve knew that, wouldn’t have cared all that much.

except the principal had his lunch at 1:15pm every day. and every day he drove down to the diner for a coffee.

any guesses as to when steve’s particular idiotic boyfriends decided to go on with their diabolical plan?

to put it simply. steve got the call that they were in jail. and steve would do anything for his boys. anything.

even call and beg his own father for the funds to bail them each out.

tommy and billy were grateful. hugged and kissed and praised and served on steve once they were released. celebrated and made sure steve stayed relaxed.

except he wouldn’t relax. not after tommy gave a massage. not after billy made steve’s favorite, dulce de leches.

nothing. worked.

so they asked. and steve eventually mumbled.

“i have to work for my father this summer. full time.”

tommy tucked some hair back and out of steve’s eye, “why? you said you wanted to go into—“

“to pay it back,” steve responded. ashamed. ashamed that he was complaining, that he was so banged up for being fortunate enough to have a job. no matter how much he thought about the waste it was going to be. mad. that “tommy and billy quality time” ended like it had. with steve a step more out of the loop and a whole summer of tense lack in communication. and he knew what that led to.

in the end. no one needed to ask what he meant by it.

</3

tommy and steve were close. they didn’t consider themselves closer than either of them were with billy. even if it was a tug at the truth. they wouldn’t accept it. they had a long past but their love was billy’s before it was anything other than.

they told their stories occasionally. and billy felt left out. so he annoyed and rattled the other two more and more until he got their attentions back.

he spat water at steve’s bare back and threw a balled up wet sock that was either billy’s or tommy’s at tommy’s crotch. he missed. just barely. and they two tossed their popsicles off to the side and ceased their conversation about third grade. hopped in and started gulping and spitting water right back at billy.

he was proud. that he managed to pull them out from the times without him. sometimes he wanted to cry because he felt he had to.

</3

now they never left each other for good. they eventually did learn that it was all three of them or nothing.

but before they really became set in stone. before all their silt settled and they grew and little older and wiser.

tommy was the first to lose his balance.

he’d been gone from the room for ten seconds. ten. and when he came back billy and steve were already making out. passionately. tongues out and hands around each other’s shoulders. something churned in his gut and he sat on the opposite end of the couch.

tommy regretted not growing his hair out more. as he ignored how billy and steve rolled and crawled over like puppies, he somehow took notice to how steve twirled billy’s hair between his fingers. billy kissed his temple and it made him feel a little better. but he felt his heart temper up to boiling water as steve watched him. either suspicion or annoyance. both of which tommy couldn’t handle.

they didn’t mention it. tommy leaned more into the couch. and he didn’t speak to either of them for a week and a half.

didn’t return until he saw billy and steve fighting outside the public pool. after hours. tommy had just wanted to sneak in.

“it’s your fault!” billy screamed at steve. he was snotty and his cheeks were wet. steve was blotchy red and his eyes had that hollowed look he got when he was about to break down.

“you’re the one that mounted me! he came back and saw that, how is it my fault. he felt left out. you should have waited until he came back!” steve stumbled over his sentence structure. tommy stayed planted on the gravel.

“you didn’t tell him goodnight before he left,” billy mentioned. tommy thought about it. steve actually had said goodnight that night.

“what are you talking about?” steve asked, incredulous.

“i don’t know!” billy yelled. steve took a step back. a full one. tommy took one forward. watched billy’s shoulders shake like he was a scarecrow in the wind. then he asked in a whimper, “why is he doing this to us?”

steve didn’t have an answer, but he nodded, “it hurts. like he…he took every tendon in my legs and half my heart all at once.” billy dashed to steve, hugged him tight just as steve started crying. both sobbed as the force on both their chests caused collapsed collision.

“i miss him so much.”

tommy took a slow breath. and returned with much more understanding and too much regret to fully acknowledge at once.

#you’re my dove anon now for no reason other than i feel a need to call you dove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tommy hagan #keg boys #kegboys #stranger things

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beccarooni · 4 years ago

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The End - Chapter 1

(Infinity war AU: Loki lives and leaves the Statesman with Bruce Banner. Multi chapter fic, enjoy the ride babes xo)

taglist: @woahthisguy (ask to be added if u like!)

When Loki woke, part of him still thought that he was on the Statesman. Still aboard that cursed vessel, with smoke filling his lungs and the maddening glare of the stones shining before his eyes. Rays of sunlight filtered into his vision, and he felt broken wood under his fingertips - but part of him still expected to see Thanos’s golden boot step into his vision. Still expected to see his brother, bloodied and bruised, a lifeless body tossed beside him. Expected to hear his last pained scream as the power stone touched his head, to smell the ozone building in the air and to see the final flash of lightning that would signal his brother’s journey into Valhalla.

What he heard was the sound of birds.

Muffled by walls, but there. Birds, nature, the faint sounds of traffic and conversation bleeding in through the ringing in his hears. He opened his eyes, grunting slightly as he felt splintered beams digging into his side from where he fell. A neat hole in the ceiling signalled his entry; he stared up at the familiar sun and sky, and let his eyes fall shut again with a groan.

Midgard.

But not just anywhere in Midgard. He inhaled the musty air, coughing out the dust from his throat. Magic - he could sense it everywhere. It clung to every surface of this place, seeping into the floorboards with a familiar sense of order and learning. Not just magic - sorcery.

Loki sat up. Pulled himself out of the hole he’d created in the floor, and almost buckled under the weight of the familiarity of this place. The Sorcerer’s Home. Where he’d been suspended in animation for over half an hour, only to be dropped onto the marbled floor and told that they were going to see Odin. He remembered Thor’s voice, then. That was one of the last times he’d sounded like himself. Before the Norns had twisted the last few strands of their monstrous tapestry, and brought their world crashing down around them. Around Thor, to put it more aptly. Loki had shed no tears for Odin. Hadn’t felt the same coiled rage in the pit of his stomach as when Frigga had died. But it had signalled the beginning of the End, for them. The beginning of Ragnarok. The twisted path that had dragged them from Midgard to Sakaar to Asgard and finally to a barely held together spaceship crawling through the stars.

And then to oblivion.

Loki flexed his fingers, stepping onto the cold marble floors, and allowed himself a moment of respite. This wasn’t good. Out of the frying pan, and into the proverbial fire. Midgard may have meant refuge for Thor, but not for him.

Voices sounded from outside the doors. Loki stepped quickly, pressing himself against the wall - not that it would do any good. The Sorcerer had sensed them from oceans away, last time. He could pluck him out of thin air if he so chose, and deposit him at his feet. But it felt right, at least. Sensible. Slinking his way in and out of the shadows was what he was used to, and he needed some familiarity right now. Stability in any form; even if it was just a repeated motion from a lifetime that was now obsolete.

“The Avengers broke up. We’re toast.” Smooth, honeyed tones from beyond the door; a voice that could have been roughed with anger, but the edges smoothed down into something more palatable. Stark.

“What do you mean, broke up? Like a band? Like the Beatles?” Another voice sounded off - this one inquisitive, confused, but still with a certain fog - like someone coming out of a long sleep, trying to recount a dream that was fading rapidly. Banner, then.

Loki leaned back against the wall, silently cursing his luck. Of all people he encountered, it had to be Stark. Someone who Loki’s last fond memory of was tossing him out of a window - and even that was marred with the faint blue tint of the mind stone’s power. He couldn’t even enjoy throwing Stark out of that window. Couldn’t even take credit for it, really.

He shifted his fingers again, feeling the familiar steel of his dagger morph into life in his hands. That brought a little comfort, at least. Even if he knew in his heart he wasn’t in much shape to fight off the Avengers right now.

He had Banner to vouch for him - maybe. But Banner didn’t have the same trust in him that Thor had. And Thor wasn’t here to echo that sentiment to his allies, because Thor was dea-

“Thor’s gone.” Banner’s voice resounded off the walls again, subdued and uncertain.

Loki didn’t know why that word suddenly made him so angry.

Gone implied things. It implied uncertainty; that they didn’t know where Thor was, or what had happened to him. Gone implied that Thor could come back. Gone implied hope.

It wasn’t Banner’s fault. He didn’t know any better, didn’t know the full extent of what Thanos could do.

Loki did.

And maybe that’s what drove him out of the shadows, moving just beyond the doorway to stand in the light.

“Thor isn’t gone. He’s dead.” Loki almost winced at his own voice - rough and jagged and far from the silver tongued smoothness he was used to.

But the look on Stark’s face almost made up for it. Alarm creeping into the eyes beneath the sunglasses, a memory of when Loki had last seemed glorious. Unstoppable. A raging inferno fanned by the mind stone, laying waste to Midgard’s streets with an army of monsters at his side. Memories of grand speeches and golden horns. Stark’s hands twitched, grabbing onto a small cord at the collar of his shirt that would probably unfold into some trinket or other, meant to blast him across the room with a quippy one liner to follow it.

Banner’s eyes widened for a moment, but softened just as fast, and he took a few steps forward. Not all the way - he was still too smart to move all the way - but enough. Enough for a placating gesture, at least.

“We don’t know that, Loki. He could’ve escaped, he could’ve-”

“Correction - you don’t know that. I do. Thanos wouldn’t leave someone like him alive.” Loki shook his head, a hollow laugh forcing its way out of his lips. “He was too much of a threat.”

“The Tesseract?” The voice of the sorcerer from his side caused Loki to turn, meeting Strange’s scrutinizing gaze with what he hoped was a mask of steel.

“Thanos has it. And the power stone.”

“Then he’ll be coming for the rest.” One gloved hand drifted idly to the necklace around Strange’s neck, his face setting in grim resignation.

“I’m sorry, am I missing something? Why are we all standing here talking to this guy? Last time I checked, he was working with Thanos, and was very much in favour of - I don’t know, murdering us all?”

Stark finally jarred himself out of whatever train of thought he’d been following, moving forward to grab Banner by the arm - like a mother, reaching out to snatch her children from sticking their hand into a campfire.

“Tony, it’s fine. Well, it’s not fine. But Loki’s with us on this one.” Banner shrugged his shoulders, batting at Stark’s hand with a twinge of embarrassment.

Stark scoffed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

“So I’m just supposed to trust him because, what? It’s a ‘long story’?”

“Oh, God no. But he is on our side.” Bruce frowned, gesturing at Loki listlessly. “Look, do you think he’d look like that if he was working with Thanos?”

Loki shot him a glare, but tilted his dagger upwards to try and catch a blurred glimpse at his reflection. Even in the unclear mirror, he couldn’t deny that Banner was right. Soot smudged along his cheeks, rimming the glaring red cuts on his face with black. Dark circles stamped under his eyes, there was blood beneath his fingernails. He looked unhinged.

A stretch of the neck, a flex of the fingers, a flash of gold, and he was whole again. The grime still clung to his skin, but it was hidden now, at least. He tilted his chin up, spreading his hands out wide.

“I am not here to pick a fight with you, Stark. Nor any of Midgard. But Thanos must be stopped, and you’re going to need more than the Avengers to do it. You can kill me, or imprison me, but buried beneath that colossal ego of yours, you know you need me.”

Stark’s jaw clenched, and for a few moments Loki expected the flash of a cannon and the impact of a missile hitting his chest. What he got instead was a sigh, tight and constrained, and a small nod in Banner’s direction.

“Fine. But if this blows up in my face, you owe me like...a million cups of coffee.”

Banner shrugged, and the three Midgardian’s continued their discussion.

It wasn’t a discussion Loki wanted to participate in - and by their hunched shoulders and wary looks, it wasn’t one he was privy to, either. Which was just fine by him. He tapped his fingers against his elbows, and wandered about the room.

So many artefacts that he hadn’t paid attention to last time. This room hummed with magic, every table, every chair, every floorboard was steeped in it; like fragranced smoke clinging to a curtain.

He overheard some of the conversation, of course. Talks of a great battle between their Captain America and the Iron Man; a rift between the team that had grown into a chasm - one that strangely he hoped would be mended. Not for their sake, of course; it would just be easier to fight Thanos if they all united as one, and fought together rather than apart, and -

Norns, he was starting to sound like Thor. He shut his eyes, shrugging his shoulders to try and rid himself of the sentiment. It was funny what a few moments of desperation could do to you. The death of his mother, and he worked with Thor again. The death of his father, and he saved a world he swore to hate. The death of his brother, and now he was talking of comradery with the Avengers.

Banner kept casting looks at him from across the room. Worried looks, but not for his own safety - at least, not entirely. Banner looked worried for him, and for some reason that filled him with vitriol, anger that was acidic and spiteful.

Banner thought he was exaggerating. He still saw Thor as a golden hero, unbreakable and untouchable. He didn’t know.

He didn’t know that it was better for Thor to be dead. That when Loki said that Thor’s fate was sealed, it was not out of spite or doubt of Thor’s strength; it was out of hope. Loki would rather kill Thor himself than have him die at the hands of Thanos.

At least Loki’s steel would have been kinder. The flash of silver and the seconds it took for the blood to leave the body would be a mercy, compared to the dazzling pain of the gauntlet. Seconds still felt like seconds, when you were stabbed. The infinity stones stretched those seconds into hours. Loki knew from experience.

Before, he might have relished at the thought of causing Thor pain. Wherever this sentiment had come from, these feelings of care and brotherhood, he wanted them gone. They’d settled on his skin with the dust from Asgard, baked into the clay of his being in the fires of a supernova, watched from a spaceship window. If he had nothing from the beginning, he would’ve been fine. If Thor had died at his hand, hating him, he would’ve been fine.

Thor had died believing in him. And that was so much worse.

Screams erupted from outside, and all four of them glanced towards the doorways.

“God, already? It’s been what, five minutes since you two crash through the window and now we’ve got more party guests?” Stark rubbed at his forehead, probably nursing an oncoming migraine.

“I guess they move fast. Let’s go.” Strange and Stark headed towards the doorway of the sanctum, but Banner lingered behind.

The scientist paused at Loki’s side, looking at him with a gaze that was suddenly inscrutable. No easily provoked anger that Loki could stoke into a wildfire to keep the sadness at bay. No mistrust. Just a hint of sadness, and a twinge of concern in his voice when he asked:

“Are you alright?”

Loki’s hand lifted to his face, feeling the wetness of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He stared at his fingers, before wiping them against the material of his jacket.

No time for this. Not right now.

“I’m fine.” Loki gritted his teeth, flipping his dagger in his hand.

Loki didn’t take much stock in legacy. He’d had his fair share of prophecies and purposes, and none of them had quite worked out the way he’d wanted - or expected. Fates could be changed with the flip of a dice - his birthright had been to die one moment, inherit the throne the next. He was destined to be the doom of Midgard and the saviour of Asgard and somewhere along these severed threads of prophecy he’d realised that it was all just chaos. He’d rather be an agent of that, than a warrior honouring the stories of someone else.

Thor’s story felt different, though. If he was going to honour anything in his life, maybe his brother could be the exception. Maybe he could help protect this fragile blue planet from this destruction; just this once.

Loki gripped the dagger harder, until his knuckles turned white.

Midgard waited on the other side of that door. A place that he had chosen to conquer, and Thor had chosen to care for.

If it didn’t die today, he knew it’d be a matter of time before it died from something else. But he wouldn’t let it be lost today.

Thor believed in him. He’d died believing in him.

Honour that, then. Honour his stubbornness, if nothing else. What better legacy was there to leave Thor with, than postponing the dying light of a planet just because?

Chaos and stubbornness. What better combination was there than that?

#my fic #fanfic #thor fanfic #infinity war au #infinity war fix it #thor odinson #loki odinson #brodinsons #bruce banner #multi chapter #mcu fic

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