Tumgik
#angst and feels
kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months
Note
I’m falling out of obsession love with konig..will you do me the favor and respark my love for him i need an obsessed in love man to match 😓
Word count: 1.9 k
Summary: He comes to see you after a mission.
CW: Mild smut, angst, fluff, emotions. +18 only
A/N: This is part of the Just Friends universe, but pov is 2nd person (you instead of she/her). I'm not sure if this is what you asked for anon...but it's what you're going to get 🥹 
Tumblr media
Rain drums your window. You've left it open a crack, and should get up and close it, but you don't have the strength. You can't sleep, you can't get up: it's the wolf's hour and the mood is heavy like the rain clouds that have circled the base for hours now.
It's the first time you hear him breaking in. Well, technically speaking, he's not breaking in anymore, now that he has a key. But it always feels like he comes to see you when you least expect it.
The five-day mission has turned into a four-day and half a night mission, then.
You feign sleep and listen how he takes off his boots. He's illegally quiet without them for such a big man. His shirt meets the floor, then he opens his belt – you know he's about to come and ravish you, and for the first time since forever you are not up for it.
The bed lets out a terrible creak of a wail as he crawls next to you. You fear it's only a question of time before the old metal and wood give in under you two. It's basically a miracle the sturdy bunk hasn't yet broken into pieces from your love.
His length touches you first as he settles behind you. It's hot and hard, lean and sleek, like the rest of the man that soon surrounds you like a copper cable with a pulse. His hand is warm as it slips under the covers and under your shirt. Or actually, his shirt.
"I'm home," he half whispers the obvious. Calls your room his home… Or perhaps it's just you. You're his home now.
The hand drifts to your hip, and it's possessive: he always starts there. You win nothing by pretending to be the sleeping beauty, so your hand comes to rest on top of his.
"Did you have fun..?"
It's a bit of a sick question. But it is what it is. And what's more, he doesn't even answer it.
"I need a fresh pair, Engel," he says with an odd honey to his voice.  "The last one is completely ruined."
You know he's talking about another pair of panties, a comfort object and a lucky charm he takes with him now that he's back in the field again.
The rain taps the window, and the darkness of the room is only pierced by distant hues of blue. The base is never dark, never fully asleep. His hand drags the shirt up, then stops on your ribs.
"You have my shirt on."
It's not a scolding, not at all. It's only a happy, shocked surprise.
"You… You left it here," you turn a little to look at him. You can see his lashes from the darkness of the hood as they drop: he's looking at you with tenderness, although the demanding flesh against the small of your back is far from tender. 
"Mm. You have my shirt and I got your panties... A good deal, eh?"
His hand wanders further under the shirt, cups a handful of your breast. You can feel the cords of muscle bunching against you: abs that contract, thighs that press and lift yours, his cock that gives a taut pull between you two.
Your nipple is caught between hard fingertips, as he twists it like a volume control. Your abs crunch too, out of the sudden sensation that bleeds.
"Hey…"
"I can't concentrate on missions because of you," his voice drops another note or two. And now you are being scolded. But so, so tenderly still…
"Mh, König… Not–not tonight," you whisper, wondering if this man can even take a thing such as a simple no. He lets go of your nipple, but not your breast. 
Not you. Never you.
"You have worries?"
You. You're my only worry.
Your mouth closes, draws into a line. You can't tell him.
“No… No.”
"Let me have you, angel. I've waited so long." His breath is growing heavier, the lean pulse against your back, thicker. 
"I'll make you feel good," he tries to bargain when you're not responding. In a way, you want him too, but for the first time during your... acquintance, you would like him to just hold you. Without the need to throw yourselves off a cliff first.
"Not tonight." You move, then turn in his gentle, throbbing hold, and he almost draws his hand away. "Please, König…?"
"Ok," he says, but looks like he doesn't quite know what to do. Just...hug you? Go to sleep while holding you? It's a change in protocol, but he's willing to do it for you. For that knowledge alone, your hand slithers down, finds his length and wraps around it.
"I can help you? If you want?" 
The rain is thin now, as it bats the glass. He lets you go and gradually leans back, falls to the mattress and allows you to give him a good, long stroke.
"My saving angel," is the only thing he says as he falls as slack as he can – a state which can barely be called relaxed – under your palm.
He's a needy man, and deprived since the last time you saw him. Which is why you know it doesn't take long. You barely see him in the electrically illuminated darkness, but you can feel how the choked sighs ripple across his body. You feel everything: the tight trembles, the density of the air around him. You hear the moist click as he swallows, the panting that rises. The occasional groans that sound like he's crying although he's not.
It's the only way he knows how to feel good, and someday, it just might make you cry. Even the sky cries for him, it seems, because a sudden gust of wind sends an entire sheet of rain against your window.
He's exceptionally quiet, probably because you didn't let him inside you this time. But then you remember he's usually this quiet only when he's emotional.
He's missed you...
That's what this is about – the ever demanding furnace of flesh. He wants to drown in you, burn until there's nothing left. It's been days, and he might've found some privacy to fantasize about you while ruining your lace, but it's no substitute for the real thing.
His hand flies on top of yours after you find that perfect angle, the one he likes. A harsh moan coats the night air, and shoots fireworks inside your stomach. He moves your hand up and down his cock like you can't do it right, but the connection, in truth, speaks of intimacy. The touch is affectionate. It says: 'we'…
Us.
Together.
He hisses, as if he's in pain. But he's just close, and you up the pace: his own hand is now only a loose, gentle cage around yours. He's so long, it seems like it takes forever to travel from the tip to the base, and you're trying to be quick and strong on top of it all. Just milk him well so he can sleep. 
So that perhaps you can sleep.
He looks at what you're doing to him, then looks at you, and it's the vulnerability in that stare that makes you understand he feels equal to that rain. You're his only summer sun. 
Then those lashes flutter, and his eyes turn to glass just before he comes. He spills all over himself with a long groan and a soul-ripping jerk, a giant coming undone under your palm and on your poor bunk bed that has seen so much already. The load is so generous you wonder whether he has even had the time to jerk himself off during the mission. If your innocent lace has barely been touched…
The last spurts are sadder, a few gushes that float to coat your hand, and he finally stills into some form of peace. He breathes in the night, relaxed and empty. You feel like you just worked on an emotional volcano, but he gathers himself quickly, raises to a half sit and tears his shirt off and over your head. Using it to clean himself and your hand, he throws it somewhere on the floor and pulls you on top of him.
Your breasts meet the solid chest, your thighs barely have enough time to go about his hips as he closes you in one of those bear hugs. The half-hard tip of him still throbs against your folds, and only then do you notice you're wet.
"I missed you," he sighs through the mask as you're held tight against his slowly settling pulse. He holds you exceptionally firm, squeezes you against him like you're his favorite toy. He tightens the hold around your middle until you are forced to let out a whimper. Only then does he loosen the hug and give out a gentle chuckle.
"Immer so gut… You feel so good. Always."
His confession is such a normal and yet, such a fragile thing to say, that you feel tears burning in your eyes.
"I missed you too," you say while trying to hide your tears from him.
"If you have worries, you can talk to me," he then says and starts to caress your back. The window is open, and the cool night air rolls in but in his embrace, you don't feel cold. You squeeze your legs and arms around him, feeling like a leech who never wants to let go. Finally, he's holding you, just the way you wanted to…
"It's nothing," you say, when in truth this man has you worried day and night. He's like a fridge you stock full day after day, only to find it empty every morning. And the things he gives you, the things he stuffs you full with… It's like having a cat who likes to fall asleep with you, a tame, purring beast who brings you fat rodents. If you don't praise him for them, he starts to hide them around the house until you wake up one morning to a terrible smell.
"You're the first who's ever hugged me," he mutters somewhere next to your ear. The golden fire inside your stomach turns into pity, horror and pain. 
"Are–are you serious…?" You whisper in the darkness of his mask that's spilled all over your pillow. You know he has had women before you, but apparently, they have never attached to him like this. Like tiny little leeches to a bear.
"Didn't your mother hug you when you were little?"
He thinks on his answer for a second or two, maybe three. The fact that he has to think about it should tell you enough.
"No."
Then, "I can't remember…"
Your lip tugs, your lashes bat away the fire that burns. He's breathing calmly under you again, satiated by a simple handjob and a hug. Although it feels like he's the one hugging you while you're being held captive there on top of him… It feels like he doesn't even quite know what a hug is.
"She had her own troubles," he mutters, sounding like he's about to fall asleep. Even on the brink of oblivion, he defends the woman who didn't know how to hug her own child, because he can survive without touch. No matter what, he will survive. 
His breathing starts to even, and your tears begin to fall. You think of moving from on top of him, to give him space and comfort to get some sleep. But it seems it's not an option, the way he holds you like a plush toy he will never let anyone take from him.
"I think I'm going to sleep now," he rasps, somewhere between awake and sleep. The rain has stopped, and you wonder whether it has only moved somewhere else, if it's now raining inside you. His hold of you tightens just before he slips to sleep.
"Don't let go, Engel…"
950 notes · View notes
miss-celestia13 · 14 days
Text
The Ending You Deserve
Tumblr media
Jake x MC - Duskwood One Shot
I wanted to practice angst and creating suspense. This happened. It has a touch of humor, a hint of fluff, and other things! Sassy MC. No smut for a change. It feels weird 🤭
Can Jake run from death and make it to MC?
Or will his demons win the race?
MC isn't named or described as it was more for the emotions. It's all from Jake’s POV.
Pain. 
Aching. Cold. Hot. Burning, burning, burning. It rolled through him in waves.
He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t see.
Dread wove through his internal organs and strangled him from the inside like an invasive vine had taken root in the core of himself.
Smoke and ash choked his airways as he stumbled and tripped through the mine.
His heart rattled savagely against his ribs.
It felt like a creature in its death throes, trying to break out of his chest.
His foot collided with a jagged, jutting rock and he went down like a house of cards. Crumpled and folded as he rolled and rolled.
Hissing as tiny sharp stones cut into his face and hands.
Ash ridden sweat trickled down his face and stung the many small slices leaking blood as he lay on his back panting and cursing himself as the ominous orange glow of raging flame inched along the underground tunnel.
The air grew thinner and thinner.
The smoke grew thicker and thicker. 
The gasoline fueled fire was a monster bearing down on him and he scrambled to his trembling feet. Taking off at a staggering jog, one hand braced on the rough, dirty wall.
A pinprick of light opened up far ahead and a jolt of adrenaline surged through his bloodstream. He hurried, panting and terrified, breathing too shallowly as the rising heat nipped at his neck.
He knew he had a choice to make.
It was death by fire or FBI.
Neither option appealed to him, but as he looked back and saw the swirling, furious flames licking nearer and nearer. He knew he had to decide.
It wasn’t fair.
He wasn’t innocent or free from any wrongdoing. But he didn’t deserve to die like an animal, run over and left bleeding out and twitching on the side of the road until he grew cold and stiff. 
No one would miss him.
No one would look for him.
He was all alone. It was a surety. He was always, always alone.
That’s not true though, is it, Jake?
It hasn’t been for a while now.
The voice in his head made his breath catch, and his heart pounded painfully in his throat.
It felt as though someone had reached inside his chest, broken through his flesh, muscle and grasped his bones to pry them apart, an invisible fist that gripped his pulsing heart and shoved it in his mouth. Forcing him to swallow it.
It beat there like a Wardrum. Marching him to his death. 
It throbbed and choked and filled his mouth with copper. He couldn’t stand it. The pain was corrosive as it ate through his nerves and left them exposed to the heat and acrid taint of smoke.
She is waiting for you. Don’t let her down.
You PROMISED.
A soul deep sigh huffed through his nose as his feet sped up, pebbles and broken glass crunched under his boots as he raced toward the gradually growing dot of light.
The roaring fire and echo of his escape bounced off the stone and haunted him as he ran for his life.
Four years of running.
Four years of searching and shame and seclusion. Running had been his gift. His lifeline. 
Yet he felt wholly unprepared for this last sprint.
He was tiring.
Steps shortening faster than his scalding breath as black smoke slithered overhead and wrapped its insidious tentacles around his body.
He would not make it.
He would not see her after all.
The thought felt like a poisoned blade sinking into his chest. He could feel the barbs of it twisting and cutting through sinew.
He would soon bleed out without a sound.
The fight left him as the intangible knife punctured his hope and foolish dream of having a love he didn’t deserve.
They’d been writing their own story, filling the pages with dreams and fragile, flourishing love.
He felt like coming here was akin to him tearing out those pages and ripping them up.
It broke him so completely he almost stopped and let the flames embrace him.
He could already smell the sickly sweet and pungent scent of his blistering flesh. Like tanning leather over a flame.
He was going to burn.
It would hurt more than he already did.
It would roast through his flesh, flay it from his bones and incinerate muscle and blood to dust.
He could already feel it.
Creeping closer, singing the hair on his nape, and filling his nose with the cloying scent of dangerous smoke.
No one would know it was him.
Nothing would remain for her except blackened bones and the memory that he had gone to the mine instead of her.
She would blame herself for this.
It would destroy her.
And it was all his doing.
No.
Never.
He wouldn’t be a cause of her pain anymore than he already had.
A burst of fresh speed and determination glittered through him as the fire drew so near he could feel the flames whispering in his ear.
Too slow, Jake. It’s too late.
You can’t run away from this.
Your luck has faded.
He forced it aside and sobbed through his clenched teeth as the dot of light swelled and came toward him.
His legs were heavy. Growing weightier with every leap over fallen support beams and shattered rock.
His rabbit heart raced faster and faster. It deafened him to the groaning, popping wood as the fire devoured it.
Tears streaked through the soot and blood on his face. Leaving pale tracks through the grime and coating his chapped lips with brine.
His vision blurred as his emotions broke free of the locked and coded vault he’d stuffed in the back of his hive mind to come here.
He attempted to shove them back in.
It didn’t work.
They spilled out and utterly overwhelmed him.
He’d spent years locking them down. Beating them into submission, so they listened to him and not him to them. The steel and stone fortress he erected around himself had already crumbled for her and there was nowhere left to hide.
He’d given her everything he had, and it wouldn’t be enough.
You always knew you weren’t enough. Let’s not think too highly of ourselves.
She deserves better than this.
Better than you.
That is a truth you will never escape.
His heart fractured as his mind fought against him and his flagging spirit frayed further.
She deserved better than this.
He was failing her. Had failed her since he let her in.
He’d always known he’d cause her future hurt.
He just hadn’t expected it would come so soon. That he wouldn’t get to watch from afar as she healed from his vanishing.
They had always lived on borrowed time.
And now, the fire was so close sweat slid like rivers down his back and legs, eating away at his nerves as they flared wildly under his soaking skin.
Jake knew it was futile. The ball of light in his vision seemed to run away from him as his eyes blurred and cleared repeatedly. His hands curled into two tight fists and he fought the urge to punch the wall in fury.
He bit down on the inside of his cheek instead. Biting down hard until the skin gave and blood welled over the tattered edge, glazing his tongue with the buttery, metallic taste of it.
It acted like a stimulant.
His eyes focused and his heart pounded fiercely as he ran and ran and ran.
Feet pounded stone as fire blazed through the mine. He had to outrun it.
He would outrun in it.
There was no other option as his blood pressure skyrocketed and his breath became harsh, shallow.
The fire sucked away the air before it could go in as he tried to gulp it down.
There was no oxygen.
His insides kept writhing and twisting.
They knotted up and up so tightly he swore felt something tear. Something that made him cry out as the air was crushed from him.
He could see shadows in his periphery. Specks of darkness and sparks of light as his lungs ached and screamed for oxygen. For rest.
Resting meant dying.
Dying meant failing her.
Failing her was never an option before.
It couldn’t be one now.
He put his head down and ran.
He jumped over another wooden beam as the light ahead broadened and he landed atop aged wooden boards.
He only had time to scream as they broke under his weight and their age.
Jake fell. And fell and fell.
He screwed his eyes shut before he hit the ground.
The impact was so brutal, he almost wished it had killed him.
He hit the ground with a resounding whack.
His head cracked off the stone. Pain, blinding and bleeding, radiated through his skull and brain, frying his rationality completely and leaving room for fear to consume him wholly.
Warmth seeped across his scalp and his hand came away, stained in crimson when he reached to feel the damage. 
Head wounds bled worse than they were and the gash didn’t feel too bad once the stinging pain subsided a little. He internally surveyed the rest of himself. Finding nothing broken despite his ribs feeling as though a giant had stomped him flat.
Dirt and blood coated his teeth as he wheezed and coughed. Choking and spluttering as he tried to get a handle on himself.
He’d bitten through his lip, and it bled like a bitch.
Something was stabbing into his shoulder. 
As he stared up at the hole he fell through, a sensation like a thousand razor blades slicing down his skin moved down his spine, coiling in his lower back. It swirled there, a ball of cutting, primal fright that soon bled through the rest of him.
A rickety ladder leading up and out offered a small ray of hope.
He clung to it and calculated how long it would take to climb in his current condition. 
Fire scoured over the opening and left no place for him to escape.
His hope died with a breathless whimper.
He barely even heard it as agony rippled through his bones and he rolled onto his knees, panting.
“Fuck!” He spat. The word was more like a vicious curse as it rebounded off the mine walls and into his ears.
Mocking him as he squinted into the darkness and tried to figure out what to do next.
The fire would keep the police and FBI away from the mine until it burnt out. They wouldn’t rush in until it was safe enough. He knew that.
He could use that.
Jake kneeled on the filthy ground and schemed.
The temperature rose and rose as he shuffled through his thoughts.
He neatly ordered and arranged everything, thinking of his brain like a filing cabinet.
He could slide one drawer open and find a treasure trove of data and memories.
Some would get stuck as he tugged at them. Rusty and dusty, hardly ever opened for fear it would cut off his ability to feel nothing.
He pulled at one that had eroded so much he had to kick it and smash it to smithereens to pull the files out.
It was like opening Pandora’s box and expecting sunshine to pour forth. 
A veritable flood of emotion, memory, and agony spilled free of the mental drawer and absolutely annihilated his hold on himself.
He’d forgotten what it was like to feel everything so fully.
Everything of the last few years had felt like he was competing against time itself. And time was humanity’s greatest enemy. There was never enough of it and it actively fought back when you tried to beat it.
It was a losing game and in order to keep playing, he’d become a ghost.
He muted everything that made him human in order to survive.
Calculated.
Clinical.
Cold.
Jake was all of that.
Now, he felt everything.
He wanted to survive. He wanted to live.
Lingering as a phantom on the periphery of reality no longer appealed to him. He wanted to feel and touch and be. He wanted everything life had to give.
The bitter and the sweet. The hurt and the relief. All of it.
Jake just wanted.
And when Jake wanted something, he got it.
He pushed up on his hands. Curling his fingers into the gravelly dirt and ignoring the bark of pain as his nails cracked and split.
His blood mingled with the muck, and he clambered to his feet.
Everything ached and bled and felt so heavy he could barely put one foot in front of the other as he carefully headed down the tunnel he’d dropped into.
His throat was raw. Torn to shreds from smoke and screaming. His hands quaked and his mouth was so dry his tongue curdled in his mouth as he smacked his lips together and tried to create some lubrication.
It was useless. He needed water.
He needed to rest soon, or he would pass out in sheer fright and exhaustion.
It’s too late, Jake.
Give up.
Only fools persist in fighting when the odds are stacked.
Jake’s head throbbed as he thrashed it, as if to dispel the sinister crooning, and muttered, “The odds are always stacked. It’s how you play the system.”
The voice went quiet again, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he tripped over rock and wood, hands scrabbling at the walls to ensure he wouldn’t get himself lost.
He risked taking his phone out of his pocket, scowling at the shattered screen as message after message came through.
MC: Jake. You can’t just tell a woman you love her and then ignore her!
Answer me.
Please.
Just give me a sign. A smoke signal. Send a damn carrier pigeon if you have to! They’re saying there’s no way in or out. But I know better. You’ll find a way. 
Keep going. Please don’t give up. You’re not alone in this. I won’t allow it.
If you die, I will hunt you down, drag you back and kill you again. You must live, Jake. Not for me, not for Hannah or Lilly, but for you. You will make it back to me.
He swiped them away. Deleting them. They made his heart shiver and fracture more. The rubious fissures would leave silver scars behind. He groaned as another came through and he immediately memorized the coordinates she gave him. Deleting the message once he had. He put all his remaining energy and will into planning his escape.
His mind wheeled with memories from before.  Prior to being forced into hiding, he had experienced a life of color and fluctuating joy. It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was his. The day he had to leave it all behind, he’d severed all strands of his old life and assumed the identity of many and none. 
He’d learned a lot about humanity and its cruelty in that time. He knew how it worked.
Life was a battle against human cruelty. It always was and always would be. Wisdom, strategy, and hope were the only factors that could hope to gain over cruelty.
And his hope lived on. 
Hope, he understood it lived with her now. He’d given her it and she had offered him her own. He would not waste it.
He flicked through his brain and memories, shelving what didn’t matter and keeping what did. Everything that made him ache, he kept. Everything that made him feel safe, he lost.
If safety meant being alone, lost in a mine until he either burned or starved to death, he didn’t want it.
He reached into the mental vault containing their chats. 
Their conversation about her coming here was the most potent file he had, and it would fuel him to make it out.
She had complimented his research on the mine and he’d told her about some entrances/exits.
He informed her of the ones he thought were most likely to get him caught. It was a manipulative decision, so she wouldn’t get the stupid idea of following him.
He kept one exit loaded like a bullet in the back of his mind.
It was risky.
It was idiotic. 
Still, Jake took off running for it. 
The tunnel was narrowing as he traveled along it. He had to duck before long.
His heart still frothed behind his sternum. Relentless and out of time, with his sawing breath as the walls closed in on him.
He had to crouch now. His head scuffed off the rugged ceiling and he bit back a shout as the pain merged with that of the wound still leaking blood on the back of his skull.
He felt drained. His body became so weighty, he was grateful when the tightening passage forced him to his hands and knees.
Jake crawled and crawled. Palms scraped and searing as sweat irritated all his grazes. His eyes prickled with fresh tears as a draught of fresh air snaked into his nose.
Dread rose to swallow him, but he kept going. He didn’t know what awaited him on the other side, but it was better than dying alone, never to be mourned or found.
The fear of being arrested was so strong it almost halted him as he squeezed through the ever shrinking tunnel and felt like he was caught in a vice.
If he got stuck—No, he couldn’t think it.
He had to turn his fear into a weapon. Run from this place and reclaim his name. The sweat on his brow, the blood running through his veins; it was that of a survivor.
This was just another glitch.
He told himself that over and over as he army crawled through the crushing mine.
He was blind.
The darkness entrenched him.
It would entomb him if he allowed it.
His coat snagged on the rough wall and dragged him back. He shook his sore body as much as the tight space would allow and panted through his clenched teeth.
It kept sticking. He had stretched his hands ahead of him.
There was no room or way for him to tug the fabric free.
His heart stopped dead in his chest.
Helplessness stole his flagging fight, and he slumped into the dirt, hiding his filthy face in it.
Abruptly, Jake started sobbing like a child. Great, gasping cries tore from him and his entire body shuddered with it. So violent and soul destroying he couldn’t temper it.
No matter what he did, it went against him. He’d never worked with such horrendous odds. His brain was a mess of emotion and regret.
He wished he’d written everything he felt and hoped for them down and mailed the letter to her before he entered the mine, but he’d been cocky then. Too confident in his ability to escape any trap or cage.
Jake gave up and accepted his fate.
If he died, if that was his due, there was no stopping it. He’d been living off begged and borrowed and stolen time for years.
It had finally caught up to him.
He was so lost in defeat. Consumed by it. His throat contracted, and he felt like he might be sick.
He hoped he choked on it.
Make it quick.
“I don’t want to die,” He whispered without meaning to and his mouth kept moving, the words kept falling from his bloodstained lips, “Not like this, anything but this.”
His heart shriveled and went cold as he struggled and tried to shuffle forward. He couldn’t breathe properly. All his weight was on his front. His ribs felt bruised and cracked, every tiny inhale felt like a sledgehammer blow.
It is over, Jake. Feel that? The cold creeping in? Soon, it’s all you’ll know. This darkness? It’s all there is. All there ever will be. It’s what you –
“-- I don’t deserve this.” Jake growled with a certainty he’d never known.
Adrenaline coursed through him, lighting up his veins and filling him with new trembling energy as if someone had injected him with a drug.
He rocked and shook his body until his bones jolted and his skin felt too tight. He forced what little breath he had out through gritted teeth and felt the tendons in his neck straining as he dug his fingers into the dirt and put all his strength into pulling himself free.
The sound of fabric ripping caused his heart to start beating again.
He gave a laugh like shattering glass.
Unhinged and desperate as the momentum of his coat coming free shoved him forward a few feet.
From there, it wasn’t easy. He felt like a clumsy serpent as he slithered through the mine.
He kept laughing. His heart kept pounding.
The voice in his head was silent as his hands connected with something that fell away as he shoved at it.
Glorious, clean night air hit his sweaty face, and he gulped it down as he pulled himself out of the horrible tunnel.
It seemed to cling to him. Like invisible hands tugged on his ankles to keep him trapped. He refused to allow it.
Damp earth, long green grass, and dried leaves crunched under his hands as he lay on his back on the forest floor and stared at the starry sky.
He considered the spectacle of stars as the greatest gift he could have received. He analyzed it, finding the North star and thinking of the co-ordinates MC had given him. He quickly checked them on his phone before he threw it away, and was relieved when he discovered it wasn’t too far to make it there on foot.
If he headed in a North- Easterly direction, he could make it there at sunrise.
He didn’t bother looking toward Duskwood, didn’t need to know how close his pursuers might be or he’d lose his nerve.
He shakily got to his feet and started walking.
Time meant nothing to him as he traipsed through forest and open fields. He stayed away from the roads he knew were always busy.
In his current condition, some good samaritan would call for help thinking they were aiding him when in fact they’d be signing his death.
He was so tired. It clung to him like a shroud of smothering fog he would never break out of.
He kept moving. 
Through shadow and moonlight, he kept walking and ignored the pain in his body as best he could. 
There was no end to his exhaustion as pink tinged sunlight shimmered through the pines.
The sun was rising.
How strange, he thought, that his world could burn down around him and yet the sun still rose.
He eyed it and felt strange, like it was an abstract painting absolutely out of place in this world of cruelty, death, and flame.
No matter how deeply or irrevocably the world burned. No matter how thick the shadows grew and the amount the freezing darkness consumed, the sun would always rise.
It filled the world with light, warmth, and color and precious hope.
He felt the soft warmth kiss his hurting face, and it energized him as he broke out of the cover of trees and came to a halt in a motel parking lot.
Jake frowned, glancing around in suspicion and doubt as he failed to understand. Why would she send him here? He hadn’t stayed here. It was too out of the way.
And just how did she know of it?
He stood straight and fear thickened in his throat as his attention snagged on a window. The curtains had moved. He was sure of it.
He moved as though to sink back amongst the trees, but the creak of a door opening made his head snap toward it.
A small, slender hand poked through the gap in the door, beckoning him. He was moving toward it before he could give his feet the command.
His heart picked up speed again. His pulse and distress ratcheting up and infusing him with tension like someone was turning a screw too tightly.
He was only a few steps away from the door now. His skin felt too sensitive and everything hurt in some way. His throat felt like he’d been eating sandpaper and gravel.
The shake in his hands intensified, flight or fight. His nervous system couldn’t decide.
As he hesitated, a female voice trailed through the open door and it was like a salve on his exposed nerves. He had heard that voice, he could recognize it anywhere.
His heart raced for an entirely different reason as he listened to it.
“It’s safe. Come in and I’ll explain.”
Jake didn’t care about her explanation as the adrenaline left him so suddenly he drooped and nearly dropped to his knees.
He tripped through the door instead.
She didn’t give him time to rake his gaze over her the way he wanted to. She gripped him and forcefully dragged him into an embrace, causing him to groan in pain as it aggravated his many minor injuries.
She instantly pulled back, grimacing and apologetic.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. Here, I have supplies. I figured one of us would get shot or stabbed or maimed. It felt important to be prepared. Thankfully, the worst injury I’ve had is paper cuts. You don’t look like you’ve been so lucky. Are you bleeding anywhere? What do I do first? Are you burnt? You smell like someone roasted you over a spit! Are yo-”
Jake chuckled roughly at her babbling. Touched and amused by her care and thoughtfulness.
It was the first genuine laugh he’d had in years, and it turned into a cackle before long. It just slipped out of him and sounded more like crying by the end.
His gritty eyes closed as emotion swallowed him and he welcomed the darkness they offered.
It was familiar.
It was safe.
He woke hours later very confused and so stiff it felt like he was breaking his bones to sit up. His grunt of pain escaped his teeth as a lilting voice cut through the static in his mind.
“Oh, good. I was worrying. That’s nothing new, but you look like someone just dug you out of your grave. I cleaned and patched you up as best I could without stripping you. I thought I’d let you buy me dinner before we got to that stage!”
Her tone was light and filled with humor, but there was an edge of despair and anxiety in it that told him she’d fussed over him the entire time he slept.
His sluggish heart resided in his empty stomach as she approached him slowly like she thought he was an injured animal and she was afraid to spook him.
“Where are we? Why are you here? You promised to stay away.” He managed as he accepted the glass of water she offered him.
His fingers left dirty streaks on the glass as the dirt mingled with the condensation. The water was cold and crystal clear and he gulped it down to clear the sour taste out of his mouth.
She huffed at his words and waited for him to sink the water before she responded, “Typical. I come and help you and you scold me. Well, shove it.  If it weren’t for me and Alan, you would be dead or rotting in a cell. And I did stay away! I didn't go to the mine, did I?” 
His gaze flew to her indignant face, lovely and open despite the fury razing hell in her narrowed eyes.
He felt shocked that he could speak because his tongue felt so thick in his mouth. “My apologies. I’m still—I’m sorry... Alan? I thought he would be more interested in helping them catch me?”
She smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she sat down beside him.
“That was until I ripped him a new one. The fire helped most, but Alan is currently playing down your involvement to give us time. He’ll make contact with us once we find a safe place to stay.”
He opened his mouth to demand she go back home, and he’d message once he was safe, but she flung up a hand to silence him.
“None of that. I’ll explain better once we know the scope of the fallout in Duskwood. But I am coming with you. No, if ands or buts about it, Jake. I make my decisions, not you. The last time someone tried to decide for me, I bit them. Don’t make me bite you too. Are you in?”
Her eyes were hard and unwavering, not a sliver of doubt to be found.
Everything inside him protested against dragging her into his mess, but he was tired.
He was tired of being alone.
He was so tired of losing everything.
Four years of fatigue and depression sank through him like a millstone and he hung his head in defeat. He was in no condition to run alone, anyway.
And he didn't want to. It was selfish. It was daft. But he didn't care.
He hadn't expected to survive this long. Plus, she had been his reason to make it out. He sighed and let his shoulders curl inward. Having someone else to protect would keep him sharp and ready for anything. She must've sensed his resolve weakening. 
She reached out and threaded her clean fingers through his muddy ones, dark and light; he thought stupidly as his skin tingled at the contact.
It had been so long since he’d been touched gently. With obvious affection and because someone wanted to, not because they had to. 
He was used to bruises and hurt. This was — this was what he'd survived for. 
He’d forgotten what it felt like as he met her gaze and felt his stomach fluttering with something that felt like excitement.
It felt like hundreds of tiny birds had taken flight in his abdomen and a frisson of tentative anticipation filtered through him. 
Her eyes glittered and his mouth twitched with the want to smile as he gave his response.
“I’m in.”
—————————
Thank you for reading. I hope it was worth your time despite this being done so many times before me. Oh, and if you leave a comment or reblog, thank you. It is appreciated ❤️
70 notes · View notes
ssomagni · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
Image source: Superman #32
Prompts:
@yearoftheotpevent June: You aren't what I expected
@sunflowerpirateart Pride prompts day 7: Nervous
Pairing: Superbat
C/W: Loss of parents
Story summary: While they have gone separately, this will be Bruce and Clark's first pride event attended together. They both have different ways of approaching it, different goals, very different looks, just as they do in many facets of their lives. Though one thing is true for them both, whatever the occasion, whatever the day or duty, as long as they've got each other they are doing something right.
Story Link: I want to wear it well
Requests open: Yes
150 notes · View notes
escenariosinfumables · 4 months
Text
Footprints on wood
Shanks x fem!reader
Note: english is not my first language. ambiguous ending. just a idea. i love Shanks angst.
On a remote island in the East Blue, there was a small cabin lost in the trees. The orange bricks were hidden among the green vines, the fence full of roses as red as blood and the aged door with two hands marked on it was waiting to be hit. Beyond the cabin, a field of wildflowers climbed the mountain, illuminated by the warm sunset. From the garden, between the orchard and the mountain, sitting at the old iron table and drinking the sweetest tea, Shanks marveled at the view. The sun was setting behind the mountain, to the west, illuminating the flowers and beyond, the vast sea. The aroma from that point was... unique. The wind carried with it the salt of the ocean and mixed it with the sweet aroma of the meadow.
Every now and then he allowed himself to dream of a different life. Living among green nature, shopping at the local market, drinking at the port bar with local elders, having an honest job and being a stable man. He laughed just at the idea. Solid land, ironically, made him nauseous. Yet, running his heavy hand over the red-painted copy on the door, maybe in another life... Maybe in another life he could love her more than he loves the sea. In another life, perhaps, I could choose her forever. In another life, he laughed, it would be enough to keep him from leaving her. The purple imprint, smaller but just as strong, was enough to stop him. Those coats of paint were the only thing that remained. The only thing that allowed him to dream of another life.
The cabin he arrived at one day for the last time was no longer what he remembered. Nature seemed to have eaten the only thing that remained of that happy time. Now all that remained was the nostalgia of an uninhabited house. He left, yes, but in the end, she also left.
With an aching heart, he tore off the heavy wooden door as best he could and dragged it to the dock  below the island. The next morning, after a long night of alcohol and melancholy, the Red Force set sail for the sea. In the master cabin, under the big bed, the prints of two hands that had once been lovingly intertwined lay hidden in the darkness.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
77 notes · View notes
wangxianficrecs · 4 months
Text
You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag
Tumblr media
You still sound like a song
by Moominmammashandbag (@moominmammamia)
M, WIP, 64k, Wangxian
Summary: "Wei Ying, are you well?" Lan WangJi plucks the strings with great concentration, tries to calm his shaking hands. Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli will not care how slowly he is playing. The important thing is not to make a mistake. They all hold their breath. The guqin strings explode into a flurry of movement,a cascade of notes over and over again. Lan Zhan ! Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan! Kay's comments: I absolutely love this AU and just like Moominmammashandbag's other stories, this one is incredibly creative as well and just has you hooked like a little fish. In which Wei Wuxian dies when the Wens come for Lotus Pier and that leads to a major divergence. Yunmeng Jiang comes out on top of the battle and now, they've got their own river spirit, not that anyone knows about it. After the war, the Jiang siblings ask Lan Wangji to come and play Inquiry and then so many things happen! Never let them see your next move! If you love creative narratives, then this story is for you! Excerpt: “They threw him in the river, after they cut his hand off.” says Jiang Yanli. Dinner is over. Lan WangJi could not have told you what he ate, which seems a pity. Hopefully he will have other opportunities to eat Jiang Yanli’s cooking, other chances where he is not too distracted to notice what is in his bowl. Now they are seated once again in the family room, where Wei Wuxian’s sword sits in its stand on a low shelf, surrounded by torn pieces of paper, scrawled notes and little drawings. Lan WangJi keep looking at it, eyes wandering despite himself when he should be concentrating on what Jiang Yanli is saying. He wants, and does not want to hear this story, but if he does not listen he will not know the right questions to ask. “He could still have survived. He could swim like a fish, always. Even with only one hand, I think he would have survived. But they weighted his feet.” She looks up at Lan WangJi. “Wang Lingjiao told me this. She delighted in telling us, Father and me, when we got home that day. That woman, that evil woman told us that A-Xian was drowned. Like a dog, she said, and she laughed.”
pov lan wangji, canon divergence, canon era, dead wei wuxian, ghost wei wuxian, river spirit wei wuxian, bamf wei wuxian, angst with a happy ending, yu ziyuan being an asshole, angst and feels, hurt/comfort, grief/comfort, family feels, yunmeng siblings feels
Tumblr media
~*~
(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
52 notes · View notes
Text
🫂 Radiating Justice || Hellsing Alucard Angst 🫂
Word Count: 4,915
WARNING - As a victim I was going through a rough day when I started this. I looked up when SA awareness month was thinking it was this month but it's fine. Close enough if you will haha. April is nearly here and it'll be Sexual assault Awareness Month. April is also my birthday month so there's quite a bit of angst in the air with me right now. 
The story includes the talk of sexual assault and abuse so please be aware. To all the fellow victims out there hello, I see you and I am with you. 
Check out my other socials and follow if you want and I'm open for commissions so if you are interested in that please dm or comment. (PayPal & Cashapp preferred. I'm open to other payment methods if you prefer them but we'll have to talk about it. Currently working on getting something set up for someone else but since I'm kinda new to everything you'll have to be patient with me. ^^`
👇🏾 Story Continues Down Below 👇🏾
~
It's one of those days. 
One of those fucking days. 
The days were his past, the long and vast pit of it plagued his mind. He's in the void, the one that's been hovering over him the the last couple of decades. The one that had formed directly after the Turks. 
He remembers no matter how many peoples he's met, no matter how many he's lost or torn up with his very own teeth and claws… nothing ever seemed to actually get rid of his original past. 
Even when he was joking, laughing, cackling it always lingered whether he wanted it to or not even if the distractions he had around him now seemed to quiet them from time to time it was still other fucking hell. 
They whispered to him, voices much like the one he held so many years ago. Voices that sounded like what he used to, telling him that it was his fault even if he tried to avoid it. Telling him that if he had been stronger back then he wouldn't have to suffer with the thoughts he was plagued with now, that sure it wasn't his fault, not necessarily, but what if he hadn't of been cursed into that world… hadn't of been created at all. If it wasn't that voice it was all the others, the souls of those that he had been made into consuming who had now… practically been able to see his life, who had been forced into watching his pain just as much as he was. 
They whispered, voices echoing in the shadows of his subconscious and he watched them do so with dead eyes. 
And if it wasn't the whispers, the gasps, the pained and sorrowful looks he received from the dead of those following him it was himself. 
At times, when there was nothing else but him, the darkness and that… child, Alucard was faced with being glared at, yelled and cursed at by them for not giving them the strength he now had and he listened… He did so until they gripped at the shirt they were wearing which was dirty, covered in muck and blood and fluids he rather wouldn't think of but what privilege did he have for such a wish? 
All he could do was listen to them because after so many years he's come to the understanding that they never had anyone to do such with. He had been forced to live the life he lived now, yes he had cursed God much like this child was cursing him now and had been created into what he is now but Alucard at times wondered just how… his life could have been if none of it happened at all. 
And he was pissed because after all these years it was simply too, fucking late. 
Even so, when they crumbled to their knees in a ball of tears… shaking, hiccuping, Alucard kneeled carefully before them. 
They were so small, so dirty… filthy and yet Alucard couldn't find himself to judge them as he had so cruelly done many, many times now. He couldn't look down on them for being what he was, small and weak and he looks at them with his crimson eyes like the shadow of a wolf in darkness. 
His body could still feel pain, just not as it didn't before he turned. The touches always seemed to linger like ghost touching and caressing him, gripping and squeezing him even when he knew no one else was touching him and at times… he almost seemed to trick himself into telling him he enjoyed it. 
After all who would he be now if he had never ran into the great and famous Ottoman Ruler Sultan Murad ll? The shit stain who had seemed to plague his mind enough to remind him of his origins even after all this fucking time that has passed. Alucard wouldn't be Alucard… if it hadn't been for him… right? 
He was losing his mind. He's been doing so for so long now.
At times his body didn't even feel like his own which was probably why he felt a bit different every time he had the time and chance to choose another. At times such occurrences almost seemed to make him feel better until someone whispered his name, or caressed his body in a way that always seemed to spark his memory in the worst of ways. 
He had never touched himself with those memories on his mind, it made him feel sick and even sicker when he seemed to… wish that he could. Sometimes a heat seemed to boil in his gut and after so many years of using his body for many things he had learned the difference between having actual attraction to someone but even that seemed to make things worse at times.
Knowing he wanted to be touched, needed to be by someone, anyone who actually gave a fuck about him versus knowing that haunting touch of that horrid man who only did so for sick pleasure seemed to drive him into an even deeper whole than he already was in. He's had his lovers, the ones he deemed worthy enough to sleep and bed with but something always lingered and it was starting to feel like something that he would never be able to actually get rid of.
It makes him dread his existence, almost as if he thought that maybe he shouldn't have tested the old bag of shit that they called God. Almost, because even with how empty he felt… he was still rather stubborn. 
It was like pulling at himself and a part of him was tempted at the very idea as he continued to watch that small child cry and sob before him. Distantly it made him think of some small animal pleading to some beast, like a deer in the hold of a wolf. There was fear, the smell of blood and ash in the air around them and yet as they sat here together in this void there also seemed to be a sense of understanding. Even wolves could be weak, even deer could be strong, nothing seemed to make sense but that…it did. 
Alucard found himself coming to a bit of a conclusion of some sort as the voices of the dead whispered to them and for the first time in a long, long time they seemed to actually make sense. 
He was broken. 
So much so that not only had the spirits around him spilled their blood but he had too and it rained over them as well as himself.
He was broken but not alone as he sits here with the many pieces of himself and fragments of humanity.
‘W-Why? Huh?! Why did it have to be like this?! Why did it have to be me!..’ They bawled like the child that they were and always would be because while they were both Alucard they had enough time to become… their own entity as well. 
Crimson eyes stay on them before slowly falling shut and as darkness seems to color his own vision now Alucard reaches out slowly to the child, raising his hands and leading them over before taking hold of them. 
They are a lot smaller than he is now and it's honestly rather interesting seeing such a difference. Alucard almost couldn't believe that he used to be so small considering how he presented himself to others now. He feels them jump under the light touch and he briefly wonders if even that hurts and he thinks to pull his hands away but then slowly, they lift their head and for the first time in this moment between the two of them, they look up at him, their eyes shining with tears and Alucard hadn't realized it until now but his also seemed… wet. 
He's… crying with them? 
He's crying with them. 
He hadn't felt like he'd been able to do such a thing after everything, after so many years, he couldn't even remember the last time he's even felt the itch to let out tears and yet here he was now as those usually smug and cocky eyes seemed to water. 
He takes hold of them though he doesn't have to hold hard as they immediately shuffle closer now as if searching for the comfort they've never been given and who was Alucard to deny them of such right now of all times. It's like they are both deer now or both wolves with Alucard being the buck or leader of the other now, here to comfort them much like a mother or father would do for a sobbing child that they loved and cared for. 
Alucard finds himself with them moving in and clinging to him and his cloak- his garbs that were all black just like the shadows that created his form. They hold him tight, nails digging into what they could and as Alucard sits back on his haunches his moves one arm to slip under their bottom and pull them even closer while his other hand moves to cradle their head, his large hand tangling in messy, inky black hair. The sob they let out at being held so close after all this time is enough to send the mightiest shivers rushing up Alucard’s spine as he clutches them just a bit tighter. 
And who would he be to let them cry alone while they were literally in his arms now? So of course, his own eyes look up to the darkness like clouds over them and as tears well up in his own eyes they slide shut slowly. Tears roll down his own cheeks as he holds them, as they sob ugily into his shoulder, wetting the fabric that seemed to cling to Alucard's body and he doesn't care because being wet with tears was a lot better than being wet with other things right now… The child shakes violently, soft cries turning louder and louder, turning into screaming, kicking and hitting as they seem to become overwhelmed with everything they've been cursed into living with within him and Alucard only seemed to soften, hugging them like he couldn't imagine letting go because he couldn't feel the pain of their little punches and kicks but he could feel the pain that threatened to overwhelm him if he let them go now, to break him if he loosened his grip even the tiniest bit. 
After everything, this felt like nothing. 
He could handle this reaction because no one would understand them but him, either one of them. 
It takes a moment, a few minutes maybe or it could have been a couple hours, Alucard at times could lose track of time in this place not that time seemed to matter in any way to him any more. Either way, the child grows quiet, sniffling and rubbing their face viscously into his chest in pain and angst but even though it hurts, everything hurts, they do seem to like being in his arms and held by him like the small child they are. There's nothing he or they could do after all this time. 
At least, nothing when it came to regaining the innocence that was lost to them, stolen from them but… maybe, a sense of peace could be fromed. Even just a little if… 
He found him. 
There, hidden in the crowd shaking like the scared little dog he was. 
And that's exactly how he should feel. 
Alucard slowly opens his eyes once more and turns his gaze in the direction of the piece of shit and he doesn't seem to be the only one as the child lifts their head slowly. Their eyebrows knitted together as an expression on pure rage slowly but surely forms on their lips and once fully there they also turn their gaze to follow Alucard's. 
There he was, the filthy bastard. The shadows and other spirits seeming to flicker and move aside to expose him more to the two and as if he can smell the animosity that suddenly fills the air he perks and comes face to face with the crowd and Alucard in particular. The child seems to reel their teeth back like a rabid dog, fangs sparkling even in such darkness and Alucard feels himself make a similar grimace but there's a sadistic look to his that forms as it always did when he was presented with these moments. That sadistic look that seemed to show up when he was fighting on the battlefield though the idea of controlling himself is nowhere in sight like it would be if he was killing ghouls usually. It's bitter. There's unbridled rage just seeing the man, a taste of something similar to oil of his tongue like bile and when Alucard moves to get to his feet he continues to hold the child but now with his one arm under them as he stands to his full height. 
Immediately Sultan attempts to run, jerking in order to gather himself only to crash to the groud when a hand grabs his ankle roughly. 
It's a phantom hand and not one of Alucard's own per se but one of a spirit in the mass group around them and it dawns on Alucard that they are also… just as furious. 
Sure, many had been beasts who were killed by Alucard because they had to be but those who held similar trauma seemed moved by these things. Seemed just as angry as Alucard was and the child, and for what reasons in particular he wasn't sure but after spending so many years with so many souls only to just now learn them for who they were Alucard knew that he wasn't alone in more than one way as well. There were fellow victims in the group, those who had been so viciously abused by Sultan or by someone who held just as dirty of a soul as his and Alucard could hear their whispers, their words of how he should be punished far worst than simply living here with the rest of them. 
To put it simply. Many wanted to see him be punished like the vile, disgusting creature that he is. 
To be punished like a bad dog, face justice like he was meant to. 
That he should be whipped, strung up, raped just as the others had been and Alucard almost felt better at such words as they grew louder and louder, chanting, hisses and snarls filling the air. Even if some of these spirits had their own reasons for feeling such ways one way or another they all wanted him gone. They didn't want to have to share this same space with a creature like Sultan Murad ll and who was Alucard to make them, who was he to allow this man to love even amongst this place without facing the pain that he had caused upon others. 
Alucard could be rather forgiving however,
He would never forgive this man. 
He couldn't forgive this man. 
Wouldn't even dream of it. 
And so he takes a step, then another and Sultan begins to screech, already begging, pleading for the life that no longer belonged to him… doing so much crying much like Alucard had done all those years ago, over and over again as he repeatedly cried and begged and pleaded. Seeing such a weak display made him snarl, the least Sultan could do was take it like a man. Something he had said many times himself while he was buried in Alucard's small and tormented body and had he ever had mercy? 
No. He hadn't. 
So who would Alucard before to have any on him? 
When he had killed the man Alucard hated the fact that he didn't want him to just die and be blessed with finding himself at the gates at hell so instead bitterly consumed his blood, his sport, his soul just to have him here and just to torment the man just like he had for many others. 
To welcome him to hell while also showing him it in all it's best aspects. 
The spirits clung to the fat bastard as he tried kicking, tried fighting off the hands that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, they dug into his skin and ripped at his clothes until he was just as small and naked and scared as Alucard himself had been and as the great No Life King continued to approach like a giant trailing through a sea of claws and hissing, those spirits made room for him, stepping aside obediently as Alucard made slow steps. Said steps that some how rung out louder that the animalistic sounds around then, even louder then Sultan's screaming which only seemed to get louder as he fought and kicked only to now find himself naked like some wet dog that had been caught in the rain. He tries scooting away, his ass rubbing against the dark floor and his legs kicking and once he's cornered, backed up to a wall like some little bitch, Alucard pauses when he seems to catch the whiff of piss. 
Did he… 
Alucard suddenly snorts, the wild look in his eyes only growing crazier as he finds himself moving his free hand up to his mouth as if to snuff off his own laughter. 
Did Sultan Murad ll fucking piss himself out of pure fear? How precious, of course he did Alucard remembers the smell as disgusting as it is. 
How could he not after all the time the man had seemed to find humor in pissing of him after he'd cum in him, after he had his fill of Alucard's young body. The laugh that fills the air is wild, a loud cackle that rung out and filled the air.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Alucard now speaks and the child in his arms jumps a little thought they look at him with sparkling eyes almost as if in awe at that reaction.
“After all this time you can't even fight back?! You can't even bother to get to your feet?!” He giggles as all eyes turn on him and then back to the man who seemed to be shaking in a pool of his own piss. Hell, Alucard hadn't even been aware that the spirits even could piss themselves after dying and yet here he was being proven wrong in the faces of so many. “How pathetic.. You've even allowed yourself to be stripped like some corner whore.” He says, his voice dripping with venom as he continues to storm forward and a few shadows shift and stir behind him, revealing themselves as being his dogs. The shadows that he used so often when it came to killing those who truly deserve it and to say the least, they were starving. Itching the sink whatever teeth and limbs that they could into the man and Alucard could feel them waiting for his permission. 
“Should I allow you to be treated like one too? To be raped and used from every orfis like they are?” He asks with a voice so hauntingly chilling that the room feels icy on impact. 
I-I'm so sorry.. I never.. 
Sultan's voice suddenly cries out and Alucard finishes crossing the space between them with a few sudden and big steps which literally made the man yelp and try to squeeze himself into a ball as if he'd be granted access to hide. But no, not here, never here. He deserved to be seen, to be judge, ostracized like the filth that he was and if Alastor was the judge than he would judge this made and he was justice so of course he wouldn't offer him the mercy that he begs for now.
He even tries to meet Alucard before Alucard gets to him as some weak, pitiful attempt at being heard out, listened to and when Alucard stands right before him the man scrambled to his hands in knees. 
F-Forgive me! Please forgive me. 
Sultan Murad ll says while fucking sobbing, even attempting to move and kiss at Alucard's feet. He plants one and shakily looks up to Alucard to see it's affect on to be faced with… nothing. Not even the smile which had been there a moment ago as sharp, crimson eyes looks down at him like shit on the side of the street. 
Quickly the man moves down to give another kiss only to gasp and a foot connects harshly with his jaw, kicking hard enough to knock him back on his ass and make his head spin. His vision is blurred for a second and there's a ringing in his ears and it takes him a minute to realize that he was bleeding everywhere from his nose which was fractured. It's like they weren't even dead. He hadn't expected to be able to feel such pain in the afterlife and now after quite literally getting a taste the man breathes quickly and heavily, cupping his hands under his chin to uselessly try and catch the red crimson which was leaking from him like a faucet. His hands shaking horribly as he slowly looks up and meets Alucard's vicious gaze. 
“Don't touch me. You are the very last people I want touching me and you… know that.” Alucard says with a snarl as he now takes the time to lean down and place the child on the floor and understandably so, they hide behind Alucard for protection, not that they actually had anything to fear. They hid but not so much so that they couldn't see. 
They wanted to see the show too after all.  
“Those dirty lips, those filthy lips and you think that I want them on me after everything I've gone through thanks to you?” He hisses and the only reason he doesn't lunge at the man himself is because he doesn't need to, he had all these eyes around them right now, if you didn't tear him apart than someone else surely would. 
“I wouldn't even drink your blood if it was the last bit on this shit fucking rock we call Earth. Don't. Touch. Me.”
He wants to grab him and throw him so hard on the group that his body would basically burst open with broken bones and limbs on impact but Alucard felt done with this trash, this waste of a human soul. And so, he simply scoffs, moving to turn away, gathering that small child in his arms once more and they happily allow him with a little smile forming on their face. Just seeing this was enough to calm them, was enough to give them vengeance, just seeing this man… practically smelling his fear in the air was enough to heal something deep within them.
Alucard however…
Didn't seem to change as he pulls them up and allows them to look over his shoulder at the view, holding them closely and even rubbing their back a little. And with a hum and a short whistle from his lips the spirits around them seem to suddenly jumping at the man startling with the hellhounds who didn't waste any time rushing forward, hungry. 
Jaws snap down everywhere they can, fangs and claws tearing into flesh and spilling blood as Sultan screams in agony. 
He probably had thought this wouldn't be painful but it was anything but as the hounds tossed him to the ground, and they cries and pleads only seem to continue. They filled the air like music and when the other spirits joined in, rushing to see just what they could get their hands on and tear into, Alucard hums. 
There is a bit of satisfaction. 
Especially when the man is faced with not just being torn apart but groped at as well, touched fondled. 
Alucard wouldn't stop them and as his younger self watches with wide eyes he continues to hold them close as if they were his own child, one he created and to be honest… they basically were. He formed them every day, had been in this space with them alone for so many long and painful years. 
No one knew them like he did. 
And no one would know him as much as them. 
Which was perfectly fine. Screams soon turn to cries, crimson on the floor soon finds itself blending in with semen, cum as the man was used but not only those starving spirits but the hellhounds too. Over and over again like some whore, some slut, just like he had done to so many others. 
There's a sense of peace that fills the air over all the sobbing, the crying, the laughing and Alucard finds himself feeling even more so introspective then he had originally. Coming to the conclusion that even this didn't feel like enough to pay for it all. 
However, the child in his arms seemed to brighten, shining like a start as they watched this show. It's the brightest Alucard has ever seen them, it's such a pure look that he never thought he'd be able to see in this world and it's warm. So warm, like the shining sun and before Alucard can stop himself he falls to his knees, clutching the child tighter now and burying his head in his shoulder. 
The child squeaks and looks at him carefully and he's shaking, it clicks now that Alucard has finally broken, shedding tears from those beautiful crimson eyes of his and they still still for a moment but a soft smile forms on their lips. 
Slowly, gently, they move to wrap their own arms around him now, hugging him close and Alucard sobs under the touch. 
He's been to this place so many times now and never has he felt like this, never had everything just made… sense, and it was overwhelming having spent so many years with this pain. Trying to hold on to it and deal with it on his own but the thing was that Alucard was anything but alone and they were with him as much as he was with them and no matter how much he tries to ignore them, avoid them, hate them. 
And Alucard found himself very grateful for them as he continues to let out tears that had been trapped in him for so, so long and they let him with a smile on their face. 
“Thank you.” 
They whisper now against Alucard while gently rubbing his back now much like he had done with him as he clung to them like a child would with their favorite toy. 
It's like he had finally felt something new, different from what he's been stuck with filling for all this time and he tried to handle such an overload of emotions but simply couldn't. 
“Thank… you.”
Alucard says back now while nosing at them, shaking a little less now as they rubbed them and held him close. Never having cried over all of this was one thing but having someone to cry with? Was definitely another. 
It's relieving. 
Like popping a balloon full of water, and as blood spills behind them Alucard allows himself to but wash with every emotion. And as he continues to cry he feels a wave of euphoria knowing that he's suddenly found a better reason to continue this life of his. 
When he pulls back from the void he finds you next to him. Resting calmly against his shoulder, sleeping soundly it seemed. You had been working with him enough now that you two had built a bound and sometimes, you definitely tested your luck and this was definitely one of those times. A tear falls from his eyes, then another because why… are you here? Greeting him after he just took such a journey within himself. 
You were so little next to him, so… sweet and kind and Alucard would be lying if he said that he didn't find himself fond of you. 
Your bright eyes, and soft lips, smooth skin.. and with such beauty you were also… kind. So caring and loving and it suddenly makes sense as the why you're also here with him right now, practically tucked into his cloak. You must've worried for him. When the two of you met you seemed to nervous, so hesitant and as… cute as it was it was clear you tended to keep a distance from him so.. being here with him now, had to mean you weren't scared enough not to lay and take a nap right next to him and that makes him… smile a little.
He looks down at you for a moment, admiring your lashes and soft cheeks and the way you chest rose and fell slowly and without much other thought he wipes his eyes of their tears and slowly, carefully leans down to place a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips were soft, careful, against her warm skin and he could easily pick up on her natural scent. When he pulls back you stir a little, just a tiny bit and Alucard chuckles, moving his arm in a way for it to slip around you easier and pull you even closer. He goes back to resting his head, leaning it back to look up at the ceiling before slowly letting them fall shut and for the first time in a long time his heart felt…
Light. 
~
25 notes · View notes
idiot-mushroom · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
@lowkey-loki245 for the prompt :D
Also i hope yall drown in angst but in a good way
561 notes · View notes
gazs-blue-hat · 8 months
Text
Loving Something So Broken
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Gn!Scarred!Reader (can be read as platonic or intimate)
Word Count: 1,017
AN: inspired by conversations had with @plumteaa-remus
TW-Scars, SH mention, self loathing, body dysmorphia
Summary: Simon is friends with a heavily scarred reader. She is confident in her scars and he wants to know how.
I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO ANYBODY HERE OR ON ANOTHER SITE TO REPOST, COPY, TRANSLATE OR FEED MY WORK TO AN A.I OF ANY KIND.
Tumblr media
GIF by naturecopy
Simon stood at the sink basin feeling disgusted. The mission they had just completed left him with a nasty gash on his temple, one that needed to be stitched. Since he refused to see the medics about it, he was left stitching the wound himself.
Now Simon was no stranger to stitching himself up. He’d done it hundreds of times. But even if he had done it thousands of times, it would never prepare himself for the face he saw in the mirror.
Dark brown eyes that looked oh so tired gazed back at him. He couldn’t stand his face, he absolutely hated it.
The man staring back at Simon Riley was a monster and he knew it. The face of a killer and a man so broken that even he didn’t know who he was.
That wasn’t completely true though.
Simon knew the man that was looking back at him. The same brown eyes were the ones that haunted his past. The same eyes that took him to dirty concerts and made him laugh at death. The same eyes that forced him into the mold he had broken.
Simon looked in the mirror and saw the face of his father.
Simon felt rage well up in his soul as he lifted his hand and punched the mirror to pieces. He didn’t care that his hand was now bleeding. He didn’t care that someone probably heard the mirror shattering. All he wanted was to destroy the face he saw in the mirror.
He didn't hear the door open to his room, and he didn't hear the door of the bathroom opening. He didn't know when he had started crying, but he was well aware of the arms that held him softly and pulled him away from the sink.
“Hey…Simon…hey..” a voice in his ear, a soft one that he knew so well. The voice that told him jokes while waiting for exfil. The voice that hummed lullabies to themselves before they fell asleep. It was you.
“I’ve gotchu. Breathe Simon…” they cooed. Simon clutched at them and buried his face in their chest. He could see the scars that littered their arms and legs. They never hid them, never even tried.
You led Simon to his bed and allowed him to collapse into you. You gently helped him to the floor and hummed sweet words to him. He curled into you, his entire form being sheltered by you.
You knew what it was like to hate the face in the mirror. You understood how it felt to have marks on your body that you despised. But unlike Simon, you had grown to love them. Even the scars from your blades years ago that never seemed to fade completely.
You didn’t tell him to stop crying, or to relax. You knew those words wouldn’t be helpful. He just needed to get it out of his system. Simon was always strong for others, but he rarely was strong for himself.
You gently started to rock back and forth, holding his head with one hand and his hand with another. He squeezed your hand as if it was the only thing tethering himself to this world. The only thing that was keeping him from sinking into the depths of his misery.
Simon soon stopped sobbing, Re placing it with hiccups and sharp inhales.
“I know. I understand.” You whispered. He kept his head pressed against your chest, listening to your beating heart.
“I hate it. I hate them.” He choked out. You nodded, tracing a series of lines on his bicep.
“We all do at first.” You replied, your words kind and honest.
“You don’t hate them. You always…show ‘em off.” He mumbles. You exhale sharply through your nose, a laugh.
“I didn’t always do that. I used to cover them up in all the time. The amount of times I almost got heat stroke from wearing long sleeves and pants in the middle of summer is frankly embarrassing." You say softly. Simon knew you wouldn't lie to him, and he knew that you really meant the words you said. "What made you stop hiding them? What made you stop hating yourself?" He asked. He was sitting up now, but still sitting between your legs. He needed that comfort right now and you were more than willing to give it to him.
"I never stopped Simon. I still hate what I see. I still regret those scars that I caused myself. But I always have to think that they are reminders." You whisper as you start running your fingers through his hair. You were still rocking him back and forth while he held onto you tightly. You could tell he was coming down from his panic. "They're reminders that I'm alive. That I was able to pull myself up and live even though everything around me was trying to kill me." You gently pull him away and direct his head to your forearm. "That's from when I fell on a mission and a rock sliced my arm." You point to another one on your hand. "This is from when I told my friend I could do a front handspring and I missed my mark, breaking the bone." You point to one that goes along your wrist, horizontal. "This is one from Highschool when I was at my lowest point." You then gently place your fingers under his chin and direct his eyes to yours. You press your forehead against his and wipe some of the lingering tears away. "Your scars prove to the world that it couldn't kill you. That you were able to live and to heal from the injury. Sure it might have left a mark on you, but that only shows that you're still going. That you're refusing to let things knock you down." You say. Simon closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He knew he could believe you, you were somehow always right. "You're here Simon. You're here and I'm so proud of you."
And for once in his life, Simon felt proud of himself too.
101 notes · View notes
elmundodeflor · 4 months
Text
“What if we lived together?”
The first time they think about it, Levi has made them laugh. Someone had killed Sawney and Bean, and they have been crying all morning. It felt like nobody understood, how important they actually were to get a figment of truth. So many comrades were put through the worst of risks, just to capture them alive, it made them buzz with rage, too.
“Your face looks stupid.”, Levi tells them, instead. And he’s right. Their eyes are puffy, to the point they can barely open them. He would have made a joke, if it wasn’t because he’s only a bit concerned. “Now are you gonna sit around whining like a baby all day or what?”
Hanji cleans their tears off with the sleeves of their jacket. It’s not a nice image; their nose is red, and the fabric ends up stained with a splotch of wetness and snot. Levi has the immediate urge to turn his head the other way, but then hands them his pocket cravat, anyways.
“If you’re not gonna be of help, just go, okay?”, they say, with their tone tired and their voice rough. They’re in their lab, where they’ve locked themselves after hearing the news. The place’s a mess; like a tornado’s turned it on its axis. There are papers ruffled, thrown upon the floor; books taken out of their shelves, piled up on the desk. To Levi, it doesn’t take long to figure out it was them; their wild, seeking for liberation during breakfast time.
“If you want me to help, then move your ass out to the diner.”, he sits down next to them; his back against the wall. Hanji’s knees are flexed, pulled towards their chest, and they’re crying again besides him. “You’re an ugly crier, you know that, right?”, he speaks once more.
They raise a brow at him. There’s a softness that lies within his words that makes them perk their head up, stare deep into his irises. As if he’d wanted to comfort them in that own, unique way of his. It’s not like he’s completely wrong, either, though. They’ve seen it. Petra cries beautifully, like tears are snowflakes melting on their cheeks. But theirs are snowstorms, somewhat similar to acid rain. They’re not careful, or pretty, or delicate. Their heart’s too emotional, and it burns like fire. After all, they have always been too quick to let their impulses show the worst of them.
Levi sighs.
“You’d look less stupid if you smiled.”, he says. And then, he does something that makes Hanji freeze with shock. He inches up closer, like he’s calculating his moves, and places down his fingers at the corners of their mouth. It’s a gesture that’s too intimate, even for a guy that’s stuck-up like him. Still, it gets the job done. “See?”, he adds, when a genuine, whole-hearted laugh bursts out of Hanji. “There you go.”
“What if we lived together?”
The second time, it’s a late autumn night. They have suggested it, though only vaguely. “There’s so much we could do inside…!”, they’d said, on a frantic whim, earlier on that day. It was a gentle vision to latch onto, if they were honest; to play family like that. They would knit mittens for the kids before winter, and Levi’d keep the place warm— brew them his best tea.
“Would you rather…”, they ask him now. They’re lying in bed; his head on their stomach, their hands on his hair. The wooden cabin they’re staying at is small, yet cozy, with enough room for everybody. “Read people’s minds, or… be able to fly…?”
Levi shrugs. The ODM is pretty similar to flying, he guesses. Still, it’s not like he ever enjoyed getting involved in other people’s business, either way.
“Fly.”, he says, short and sweet. And Hanji hums, content. Maybe, because they knew that that would be his answer.
“Hm.”, they tug at black locks; fingers lost amidst his scalp. They’re staring at the ceiling, dressed in his sweatshirt and pajama pants. For a moment, they can pretend that this is all there ever was, if only. They’d tell bed-time stories to the children, about heroes and monsters. But it’d be just fiction, and there’d be no need to make wishes to the stars. “If you could fly somewhere, then, where would you go?”
Levi thinks about it for a second. He’d heard Armin talk, about the content in his books. Lands of fire, where sand would reach beyond sight. Snowed mountains, where earth seemed covered by frozen white. The ocean; an infinite mass of salt-water that touched past the further horizons.
He had always been curious about that one.
“The beach.”
Hanji closes their eyes. They can frame the picture, even when tirelessly awaken. They have a wide, two-floored house near the shore, with a white fence and a porch. They’re not on the run anymore; Titans nothing but a memory that fades with the foam.
It’d be wholesome, they think. They could have rooms for each the kids, let them decorate the walls however they pleased. Levi’d nag them about it, for being too messy or unclean. Then they’d brush it off over home-made lunch, sit outside to watch the waves.
“Aye, idiot.”, they whisper. And they can listen; their voice melting off to the sounds of the sea. Like they’re there already; with sun in their hair and sand on their feet. “Tell me something nice.”
Levi keeps quiet, probably a minute or two. He’d never been a man of word, but he can sense it, too. Sasha’d spend the day fishing, bring in weird creatures to cook. Armin’d collect sea-shells on the shore, maybe keep them between the pages of a book. And he’d sweep the floors while humming, sit by the window to breathe in the view.
“You could put your knitting skills to use.”, he complies, finally. Outside, the word sits silent, only the night to guard this conversation. “It’s getting cold as fuck.”
“What if we lived together?”
The third time, they actually speak it. Fearless. Aloud. Like the words have bloomed out of them before they could choke down the feeling.
Maybe, it’s because Levi sleeps, and there’s no chance he can hear their thoughts. Maybe, it’s because it’s danger— thinking like they do. But there’s some sense of safety in talking truths when no one listens.
“It’d be nice, huh?”, they whisper, more to themselves than anybody. They’d dreamed about it, really. Clutched desire to their heart like it was specs of golden. It was the beach, first. But now it didn’t even matter. It could be the mountains of white snow, the endless sandy dessert. Or right here, at the forest. They’d wear the plaid-shirts Levi hated, then he’d take them off, shut them up between kisses and jokes. He’d make them his in the bed they’d share, too; their mornings filled with the smell of pine and burnt log.
“If we run and hide like this… where would that get us?”, he says, barely minutes after. And he’s right again. He always is, Hanji’s sure. They’re a fierce dreamer, indeed. Someone who’d wish hard, with every fragment of their soul. Yet, they also know, they can’t abandon their wild— the raw nature that’s in them to see light in this world.
“Oh…”, they bit their lip, sharp until it stings. Blood burns in their cheeks, has tinted pink the tip of their nose. “You did hear me, after all…”
Levi nods, and takes a look at the hand that hurts. He’s too tired, or too scared to ever dare talk. So, instead, he stares; his eye clung to Hanji’s, with the intensity of a thousand colored fireworks. Truth is, he does want the same as them, after all. The poppy garden, the greenery, a tea-shop. But isn’t it too late to ask now? Isn’t tranquility a price that soldiers like them can’t afford?
“Hanji…”, his voice cracks at the words. A tear’s falling down their face, followed by one and then another. It’s not the ugly cry from the years before, where their sobs would resemble a loud, broken water-pipe. Now, it’s all hushed, quiet; like tear-tracks are stars against the dark of their lashes.
The realization of it doesn’t make him smile, though.
Isn’t it too late now, to confess such a thing? Isn’t love the worst of curses in times of war?
It is.
It is.
It’s too late now.
34 notes · View notes
indianamgc11 · 11 months
Text
high infidelity
a/n: i’ve been working on this for around a weekish and i’m so happy it’s finally finished. its inspo comes from “high infidelity” by taylor obvi, specifically because of one line, but it just kind of ended up inspiring this whole story with Cal. (positive and helpful) feedback is appreciated :)
warnings: light swearing, subject of “cheating” in a committed relationship, long term relationship, mentions and actions of marriage, lots of angst, fluff, bunch of feels
word count: 2,495
The conversation had been racing though your mind since you walked out of the house. Each of your schedules have been incredibly busy but you still found time with each other. But lately it’s been getting harder to. Calum’s in the studio double the time now and your work is piling up. The only sight you saw of each was getting home at night and sleeping in the same bed. Now who’s to say that will continue either.
••
You were able to come home a little early that day and wanted to do something nice for the two of you. Calum’s more of the cook in the house so you order your favorite takeout dishes and text him.
You: Hey babes, you gonna be home soon? You: I got off a little early so maybe we could do something?
Calum: Hey darling, I’m gonna be in the studio a bit longer but I should be out soon. And I’d love that❤️”
You decide to go upstairs and take a quick shower to destress a bit before Cal comes home. You undress and step in the shower, feeling the warm water slide down your body and exhale. You quickly wash your hair and body before getting out and wrapping up in a towel, then pick one of his old shirts and a pair of leggings to wear.
The food arrives just as you go downstairs, bringing it to the kitchen with Duke following closely behind to the smell of the takeout. After setting up the food on the table, you go to the living room and put on an Arctic Monkeys record, and sit down, pulling out your phone as Duke comes up in your lap. You respond to some text messages and check your emails before going on Instagram, scrolling through your feed as usual.
A few pictures in and a photo pops up of a couple holding hands while walking in a boardwalk, taken by the pap. You don’t think much of it because you hear the door open and immediately put your phone down on the couch and get up to see calum walk through the door, looking tired but happy to be home. You run up to him and hug him with your arms around his waist and him likewise.
“Missed you bubba” you say into his chest as he puts his head down into your neck, enjoying the touch of you.
“Missed you too darlin.’” You could tell by his body language and his tone that he was tired.
“Long day?”
“Hmm” he hummed into your neck as you both slightly swayed in your embrace. You continued to stand there a little longer before you pull away, taking his hand to lead him into the kitchen.
“Chinese?” He asked as he, along with Duke, started to smell the foreign food from the room. “Of course” you smiled as you both entered the kitchen. You both sit down and enjoy the meal in comfortable silence. Calum reaches over for your hand and you’re intertwined with his, stroking the surface of his lightly with your thumb.
You finish the food and start on the dishes, Calum taking Duke outside for a minute. You hear him come back inside and shut the door, but hear the sound of him talking. Assuming it was to Duke, thinking nothing of it.
You hear his footsteps behind you as he wraps his arms around you from behind, lightly kissing your neck as you finish up washing the dishes.
“Missed you” he mumbles into your neck as you start to turn around and face him. “Missed you too bubs” you say, pecking his lips.
“Is that Arctic Monkeys?” he says as he pulls away.
“Yeah, it’s the new record I bought, figured it would be nice” you smile as your hand goes up to his curls at the nape of his neck to play with a bit.
“Shall we dance?”
“We shall” you smile as he leads you to the living room.
“R U Mine?” comes into your head more clearly as you both now stand in the living room, your hands settled around his neck and his around your waist once again. You both begin swaying and enjoying the moment that you never wanted to end.
Calum was never around much anymore, always so busy in the studio or with the guys. It wasn’t much better for you either sometimes, always in classes or working in your free time. So these sweet moments you tend to cherish, not knowing when the next one would be.
Your head is on his chest with his chin resting on top of your head, Cal humming along to the song, when you feel something buzz. You hope for him not to notice his phone going off in the pocket of his leather jacket, but if you felt it then of course he would to. He drops his hands and reaches for it, walking out of the room before the phone was even up to his ear. He holds up his pointer finger to you before you can ask questions, slightly whispering. “Be right back,” before jogging up the stairs.
You go to the base of the stairs and see him over the corner of the top railing, going up a few steps. You back up a far enough distance away so you can still hear without him knowing, and end up hearing words nobody wants to hear their significant other say in earshot, at least not to you. You quickly grab your phone and jacket, putting on your shoes and headphones before slamming the front door loud enough so he could hear. Thinking too fast to grab your keys, you continue to walk down the sidewalk angrily and hurt without any intention of going back for the night at least.
He fucking lied. All the times the words of “I love you” or sweet nothings after every moment of passion meant nothing to him. It started to rain as you turned the corner past the end of your road, the water adding to the tears already falling down your face. What shocked you the most at the moment of this whole betrayal was that you never even saw it coming. It felt like you were blind and couldn’t see his tricks or what was real, if anything was. He ripped open a wound that felt like it would never heal, and knocked down doors of yours that might not be repaired. Doors only he could open. He meant everything to you, but he couldn’t seem to return the favor.
The rain had let up a bit as you walked to your best friend’s doorstep, ringing the doorbell and the door opening, y/f/n knowing just from the look on your face. She lets you in and hugs you tight, not caring about the soaking wet coat or muddy shoes.
“Can I-“
“Don’t even say anything. I’m here for whatever you need.” Y/f/n said as you continued to cry until no tears were left.
••
You woke up in her guest room the next morning, eyes puffy and the pillow damp from crying yourself to sleep last night. Your hair was a disheveled mess and your senses a little hazy. Then last night comes rushing back to you. Tears begin to well in your eyes once again as you bring your hands to cover your face, rocking slightly back and forth and beginning to cry again. You stop yourself, letting out a heavy exhale, and get up from the bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor as you level yourself.
You slowly trod into the bathroom, seeing your reflection— and the shirt you were wearing. It was one of his. One that you’ve worn so many times it’s basically considered yours now rather than his. Now you can’t stand being in it or looking at it or touching it. Thinking of all the memories attached to it made you want to, well, cry. You fanned your eyes so more tears wouldn’t fall and walked back into the room and out to go the kitchen.
Y/f/n was leaning against her counter sipping a mug full of coffee and her glance turned to you, setting down the mug and coming over to hug you.
“Don’t cry hun, you’re ok. You want some coffee?”
You give her an appreciative nod and she smiles in return, turning to start the cup for you. You walk over to the window across the space, looking out onto the street. It seemed peaceful. For once in the last 12 hours, it provided a sense of calming in a way. Not many people drive down this road, it not being a main one.
But peace never seems to last long.
It didn’t here either, as an all too familiar car drove into sight and into the driveway. Eyes widening slightly as a panic set in, backing away to the counter. Y/f/n turned around asking what was wrong, and telling her in a shaky voice, she responds with the reality of the matter.
“This is where you have to come in, y/n. There are times where you can lean on someone, and others when you can’t. You have to settle this somehow, I’ll support you either way, but you have to decide which way to go.”
You both understand with a knowing look and a nod, and you go to the front door, anxiously pacing and looking through the front window for what seems like every second. A blurry figure starts to walk up, tall with gorgeous skin and fluffy hair, anxiously messing with the silver rings around his fingers. The knock on the door only happens once but rings in your head a little longer than it should. Your hand reaches to open the door knob but it’s the opposite of what you wanted to do. For all you care, you would’ve kicked it open.
You twist the knob and open the door to be greeted with a pair of pleading eyes, searching in yours as soon as you make eye contact. Calum is the first to break the deafening silence.
“My shirt.”
“Hm? Oh” you respond with a surprise that that was the first thing to come out of his mouth in this situation.
“Wanted to keep something of you to myself.” Your tone was cold. You had no reason to be sympathetic towards him.
“Y/n, I-“ was all he could say before you went off.
“How could you. I’ve loved you ever since I was 14 years old. I would give anything for you, drop all my plans just to be with you, gave my heart to you just for you to fucking pellet it to the ground. Finding assholes wasn’t as hard as I thought I guess,”
Angry was an understatement. Pacing throughout the hall was all you could do, your hands going from your hair to each other, twiddling your thumbs in an awful manner. All he did was watch. He knew better than to interrupt you would make matters worse then they already are between you two. You stop and stand in place, just looking at him in disbelief, eyes watering, mouth moving with no sound coming out of it.
You slid back against the wall, tears falling and curling up to yourself, mind running with thoughts and memories you don’t even want to think.
Feeling footsteps and another body next to you, instinct takes over and you lean in, overlooking all things running around your mind. You slowly shift your body onto his lap, arms coming up around his neck and leaning your head into his shoulder, continuing to cry as his wrap around your waist. He pets your hair and rubs up and down your back, letting you do what’s needed.
After you calm down enough, he says something at first you don’t even register it. Retracting your head to look at him and give him a slightly puzzled look, he repeats himself.
“Do you really wanna know where I was April 29th?”
Did I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? you thought.
Your stared him down, completely unblinking. He had cheated on you, you didn’t want to listen, but something compelled you to. He was your friend, your boyfriend, someone you trusted, so you caved.
“Where were you April 29th exactly.” You hiss, eyes narrowed.
You cross your arms, staring him dead in the eye, hesitant to even lean on him. You didn’t truly want to listen to him, but you believed he could tell you the truth, even if he’s lied to you in a way you never imagined he would.
“I was shopping.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was shopping, for this.”
He reaches into his pocket with your eyes intently following his every move. In his hand is a small leather box. Your eyes widened,
“Cal,” you breathe.
“Y/n, I’ve loved you ever since I laid my eyes on you. You’d drop everything and meet me in the pouring rain. You care for me and love me more than anyone else would or even could. The person I was talking to was your sister, she was helping me put this together.”
“I love you.” He breathed with relief, nothing but pure elation coursing through his veins.
“Yeah I know. You’re so lucky I know what she likes.”
“So it was her on the other line?” you questioned.
“Yes love, I would never cheat on you, are you kidding? You’re the only one I have eyes for, hands for, love for.”
He removes his other hand from your hip to open the tiny box, revealing a beautiful crested ring, shining in the sunlight coming through the window. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as it drops open in awe.
“Y/n I love you so much and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with anyone else but you. So, will you marry me?”
“Yes Cal, yes.” you exclaim, tears welling from a different emotion. Your hands cup his face as you kiss him, full of passion and excitement as you both smile into it.
You stop to admire the moment, foreheads against one another’s as each of you smile, wondering how your smile could get any wider. He looks down at the ring and brushes his hand over yours, taking it and gingerly sliding the ring onto your hand, both admiring it.
“I can’t believe this.” you giggle, looking from him to the ring.
“Believe it, baby.” he responds, pulling you in for another tender kiss.
He murmured soft ‘I love you’s’ against your skin. This time, this time you knew he would never lie to you. He was yours, and you were his. With a small laugh, you hug him tight, tears in your eyes, this time from excitement.
“I love you Y/N. I’ve loved you before I knew who you were.”
92 notes · View notes
helloliriels · 1 year
Text
We're ready to watch S4 again ...
Tumblr media
(as long as you promise to read this)
And the Award goes to ...
@discordantwords for
(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea
🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊🐚🌊
Read the fic critics are calling: "Cathartic, Heartbreaking!", "This fic absolutely HEALED me!", "So deeply satisfying", "God. WOW.", "This could actually happen, I can SEE this happening!", "Magnificent", "Endless Kudos", "I'll end every rewatch of Sherlock by reading your fic!", "This fic felt like coming home."
Nominated by @raina-at and @bakerstmel (and many more besides!) You were bound to win for at least one fic* this round!
*My nom was set to be Whirlwind, but the fandom has SPOKEN! (and this word art was hella fun to make!)
@chinike @rhasima @whatnext2020 @loki-lock @justanobsessedpan @topsyturvy-turtely @what-even-is-thiss @iwlyanmw @neverlet @riverwithoutbanks @ithinkthereforeiamaswell @thesunandherflannelcurtains @daltongraham @ileenhaddockhawkins @lisbeth-kk @inatshej @mxster-jocale @bakerstreethound @ninasnakie @tiverrr @im-erin @escapingthereality @arwamachine @bisexualmindcabin @summerfly-blues @lhrinchelsea @belles-magnetic-violin @chriscalledmesweetie @eclectic-confusion @iamjustreading @dw91165 @scrub456 @mrb488 @glows-n-the-dark @keirgreeneyes @anyway-kindness @peanitbear @missdeliadili @colourfulwatson @eplapourdissant @impalaparkedat221b @theresnoescapingfromtheheartache @itsadeathfrisbee @wizama @johnlocky @scarves-and-jumpers @sgam76 @janetm74 @winchester-1895
143 notes · View notes
writingwife-83 · 2 months
Text
I know I should be sharing something related to the ILY scene in TFP since it’s 8th (how??) anniversary is today, but sadly I have nothing new lol. Instead I wanted to share a one shot I just reposted that’s a few years old that I really liked. This is a missing scene between Sherlock and Molly in HLV, but it’s a Victorian au. It also happens to hold the record of how many prompts I filled within a single one shot. 😂 click the ao3 link below and I hope you guys enjoy it!
Goodbye, Molly Hooper
Tumblr media
25 notes · View notes
a-s-illustrations · 3 months
Text
At Your Side
Father-son Relationship.
Edit Reblog: Add in my art for this piece!
Tumblr media
Summary: Nanami survives Shibuya and wakes up to a harsh reality however a sunshine beam is there to give a helping hand.
Warnings: Some mentions of gore.
(I also post in AO3! Would love your support there as well!)
•·.·''·.·••·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊ ˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚•·.·''·.·••·.·''·.·•
At Your Side
Nanami blinks his eyes open, or at least he tries. His right eyelid is heavy and the left…the left won't move at all no matter how hard he frowns. His vision blurs then gently clears. It’s a hospital room that greets him; the stark white of the walls and curtain feels muted by the fact that the lights dimmed. He’s alive. He swallows, the dryness of his throat makes him cough and his body lights up with pain. He hisses involuntarily.
“Nanamin?” A bright voice lights up his ears. He blinks his eye back open and sees Itadori, half bent over at the side of his bed. His pink hair mussed up and sticking out awkwardly on one side. Had he been sleeping at his bedside?. He tried to ask the question but coughs again; pain burning along his left side enough to make him wheeze a bit.
“Wait, I’ll get you some water!” Itadori gestures frantically moving out of his range of vision. He hears the water being poured as he slowly, agonizingly lifts his right hand to touch his face. His fingertips touch bandages; thick and heavy. They dip inward as if….
The memories rush back to him.
Shibuya. Jogo. The fire and that excruciating pain that made him just want to curl up and die. Getting to his feet; forcing his legs to move. One step. Two steps. Fingers tight around his weapon, unable to let it go even if he wanted to. His body working like autopilot while his mind fractured under the strain; pulling itself apart in a fool's errand to save him. Mahito’s cold hand against his bare back and then…
“Nanamin?” Itadori’s gentle touch on his shoulder pulls him back to the present. He looks up to see the young man gaze’s full of sorrow and guilt. Itadori’s hand brushes over his cheek, wiping away the tears he didn’t realize that he’d been shedding. Then he holds Nanami’s head, lifting the glass to his lips as if he were handling something fragile. Nanami drinks and the liquids cools his parched throat. He hums gratefully and settles back into the bed with Itadori’s help.
“I lost my eye,” he says, his voice more monotone and emotionless than he expected, looking over to his left side, “And my arm.”
“Nanamin…I…” Itadori’s voice cracks and Nanami looks over to see him standing rigid; shoulders hunched and fist clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. Nanami huffs both annoyed and fond.
“Thank you,” he says simply. Itadori jerks as if he’d been slapped.
“What? Why are you thanking me?” He yells; teeth clenched and eyes filling up with tears, “I was late and weak! I couldn’t stop anything awful from happening! I couldn’t save your arm! I couldn’t save those people! I just…” He grabs his hair with both hands and tugs it hard, hiding his face in his forearms.
Nanami heart breaks at the sight. “Itadori!” he snaps trying to put all the command in his tone as he could manage in this state. It still has the desired effect. Itadori drops his hands and grabs the edge of his hoodie instead; lips still quivering.
“Come here,” Nanami’s tone softens and he lifts his hand, palm downward. Yuuji lets out a small whimper as he sinks into the chair and buries his face into Nanami’s thigh. He cards his hand through the pink stands. They feel thick and grimy, unlike the usual softness he’s used to. “Thank you for surviving,” he clarifies. Itadori’s body tenses up and Nanami knows the negative mental tirade he’s going through right now.
“What happened in Shibuya is not your fault,” Nanami continues; fingers scratching Itadori’s scalp, a gesture he figured out relaxes the boy immensely. The tension in Intadori’s shoulders melt away almost immediately. He finds the energy to smile at the sight. “You did your best. Even if the outcome was not…satisfactory. I’m proud of you.”
Yuuji turns his head to look up at him; tears streaks staining his cheeks. Nanami could see that he didn't fully believe him but he thankfully doesn't put up another argument. He gives Nanami a watery smile. “Only you would describe the most horrible events like a business report.”
“Well I am a salaryman after all,” Nanami’s lips quirked into a small smirk, “Even if the work was shit.”
He was rewarded with one of Itadori’s explosive snorts of laughter. The light coming back into those eyes was all he needed to see. He gave the boy’s hair a final ruffle before just letting it rest on his head. Itadori hummed softly.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, lips quivering again.
“I won’t,” Nanami promised.
•·.·''·.·••·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊ ˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚•·.·''·.·••·.·''·.·•
𓆩♡𓆪Please reblog and comment! I wanna know what you think!𓆩♡𓆪
21 notes · View notes
chirp-a-chirp · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Enough
Fandom/Consort: Court of Darkness, Roy Invidia
Description: What is the driving force behind Roy’s need for princely perfection? All is not as it seems in this fairytale kingdom of roses.
Story takes place shortly before the S:Rank princes arrive at the Academy of Concordia (ie, a decade before the game’s prologue).
Tags: Angst, Feels, Family Drama, Insecurities
Word count: ~550
Good boy; good brother; good prince. I have heard these accolades countless times.
Today, I discovered they are worthless.
While walking in the palace, I heard raised voices coming from the throne room. Father is rarely cross, especially in any royal capacity. Curiosity got the better of me as I listened behind a crack in a nearby door.
“Do you have a plan?”
“My children are not pawns, Lord Tywin.” Father sat on the throne, his voice shaking with barely repressed rage. He took a breath before speaking in more composed tones. “They know their duty and do it well. Sherry is the people’s princess. Roy’s ancient magic is the greatest in Invidia’s history. He will lead our people to a prosperous future.”
“It is not enough!” Lord Tywin’s voice rose in pitch. “Prince Guy has magical prowess not seen since Vane. Prince Toa is close behind. Avari or Qelsum will crush our kingdom if given the chance.”
“Roy is to attend the Academy of Concordia soon. He’ll make allies with them. It’s a gift of his.”
“Avari and Qelsum value strength, not pretty words,” Lord Tywin sneered. “Prince Guy and Toa are hardened with wills of steel. Prince Roy must stand toe to toe with them, be like them, if we are to survive.”
“That is not the Invidian way. Nor Roy’s.” Father’s voice was low, rumbling with anger. His inflection then shifted, to one that was nearly pleading. “He is as tenacious as the other princes. Just in a different manner. I…will not ask him to be something he is not.” Father starred at Lord Tywin, hoping his words could make him see reason. “My son is a good man. That is enough.”
“Enough?” A bark of laughter echoed in the room. “You condemn Invidia to a future of submission and slaughter then,” spat Lord Tywin. “Unless—“
“I will hear your toxic words no more.” Father got up from the throne and began leaving. But Lord Tywin went on.
“Unless Princess Sherry were to marry.” Father stopped, his eyes flashing. “Many of the other lords agree with me. After all, there are multiple Avari princes to secure an alliance.”
“Sherry is not fully grown. Far too young for this conversation.” Father’s eyes narrowed. “I would have her follow her heart.”
“Why else have a daughter?” Lord Tywin scoffed. “Besides, you merely need to arrange a betrothal. They can consummate at a later date.”
“Enough!” Father strode quickly to the other man so that his face was inches from Lord Tywin’s. “I will not—“
“Your son or your daughter. One must make a sacrifice.”
I left my hiding spot, not wanting or needing to hear more.
Lord Tywin was right about some things. Father would not ask me to change. He is too kind to do so. That kindness is why Invidia and our people have prospered thus far.
But sacrifices must be made to ensure that prosperity continues.
I love Sherry’s smile. She is a blossom in full bloom. I will not be the cause of it wilting. If anyone should sacrifice or change, it should be me.
Good is not enough. That much is clear. Nothing less than perfection will suffice. I must be strong—To protect Sherry, father, Invidia.
To protect them all.
26 notes · View notes
noperopesaredope · 5 months
Text
I made an Island of the Slaughtered fic. Chapter 1 is out and Chapter 2 is on the way. Get ready for a long ass recovery/aftermath fic, everyone.
IotS FANS, COME GET YA'LL JUICE!
25 notes · View notes
idiot-mushroom · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Hehehehe get fucked
prev || next
390 notes · View notes