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silverbladexyz · 1 year

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♤ Hey there, Silver! Hope you're doing well!! I'm always on a Stormbringer brainrot as well, especially with Rimbaud, I love that Frenchman waaaay to much-

Anyway! If you have the time, could you write Rimbaud reacting to a reader who get him a new winter coat and a scarf? I think he'd be really happy! I don't really mind on pronouns, whatever you're happy with!

Hope you're taking care of yourself, and putting yourself before writing!! ♤

Hiii Ember! I'm doing well, and I hope that you are too! And thank you so much for remembering about Rimbaud our underrated French spy!

The image does not belong to me. It belongs to it's original owner.

TW: None. Slight Stormbringer spoilers below!

A gift for you

It was winter, the season of cold and snow.

And it was just your luck that France had pretty heavy snow in winter this year. The snow was thick whenever it fell, it's white sheen ruthlessly covering everything it landed on. Footsteps quickly disappeared in the matter of seconds, leaving no trace behind. While one would think that this would be beneficial for spies, it was a meagre benefit compared to the largely increased risk of injuries and failure of the mission.

A lot more of your co-workers had started to wear thicker clothing which mostly consisted of long winter coats. Many accessories were worn as well, such as gloves, scarves, and ear-muffs, and the heaters in the buildings were always cranked up high. It stopped everyone from feeling cold.

Well, apart from one person.

"U-uh, Monsieur Rimbaud, are you sure that you'll be fine?"

"Brrr... it's alright, Y/N. The cold is only a small distraction; I'll be able to finish my mission without any disaster. Although I do wish it'll be warmer..." You looked at him in concern as he shivered violently. Even when he was dressed the warmest underneath the blazing hot heater, he still looked like he was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts in Antarctica.

"If only I had your ability... then I'd be able to make myself warm like a caterpillar in a futon..."

Ah, right. Your ability allowed you to manipulate anything that was to do with cloth. Which meant you could pull apart single pieces of fibres, or just control clothing on it's own. But not only did you have physical power over anything made from threads, you could also make the clothing become different temperatures, with no limit on how long it changed temperature for and how hot or cold it could get. You could even burn or freeze people with the clothing if you wanted. It was a formidable ability, one that had helped you immensely on your missions.

"But my ability could be dangerous if not handled properly. You know that." Rimbaud gave a miserable nod as he gave another shiver. Just looking at him made you feel guilty, because most of the time you just relied on your power to control how warm or cool your clothes were.

"Brrr... I have to head off now. I'll see you around." You blinked, then nodded, raising up a hand to say farewell. Lowering it down, you frowned as you recalled his shivering form. It was only just then did you realise how bad it had gotten. If he continued like this, his performance on missions would definitely be impacted; and that was something a spy wanted to avoid at all costs.

If only I had your ability...

Looks like you just found what gift you wanted to give him for Christmas.

~~~

December came quickly, and then the day approached where it was a public holiday for everyone. Well, only for normal civilians. For spies like you, it meant another day of highly-classified work.

You blew onto your fingers, your joints aching from working them a lot last night. The gift lay snugly in your coat, the product of so many months worth of blood, sweat and tears. Okay well, maybe not blood. In the place of blood was many sleepless nights alongside horrible coffee that kept you awake until 1AM.

Your eyelids were on the verge of shutting, but familiar black hair that appeared in the corner of your vision made you perk up immediately. Calling out his name, you jogged towards him, clutching the gift tightly against you. A wave of nervousness passed through you.

“Merry Christmas, Monsieur Rimbaud!” The Frenchman smiled a little, and opened his mouth to say something, only to sneeze again and shiver more violently than before. You hurriedly held out the package in your arms and he stared at it curiously.

“Here, I’ve got you a gift! I hope that you’ll like it!”

Rimbaud blinked as he accepted the gift from you with freezing hands. He stared at it, albeit a bit cluelessly, which made you feel a tinge of guilt for him. The spy probably hasn’t received a lot of Christmas presents before...

“Well, go on and open it! It was made specially for you!”

With shaking fingers, Rimbaud slowly took the ribbon off and opened the wrapping paper delicately.

The gift turned out to be a winter coat with a scarf alongside it.

“I know you’re always complaining about the cold, and that you have difficulty finding the right type of clothes to keep you warm. So I decided to make you your own winter coat and scarf. Don’t worry about whether or not they’ll help stop the cold. Because I’ve activated my ability on it indefinitely. You’ll never feel cold again with these on.”

Rimbaud slowly took them out with trembling hands. Yet they were not trembling from the cold.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

He put the coat on and wound the scarf around his neck. Your ability activated instantly, warming up the clothes, and in turn, warming up Rimbaud. The effect was instant; he stopped shivering, and his complexion even got a bit better.

You were about to say something when you saw him smiling the most genuine smile you had ever seen. It was tender and gentle, with warmth laced in it. If you had squinted and looked closer, you could’ve seen the faintest tint of pink on his cheeks.

Smiling, you bid him farewell and left to continue with your day.

Gently grasping his scarf, Rimbaud smiled a bit. It was warm, yet lovely and soft.

Just like you.

Yes, I am soft for this French man >.< Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays everyone!

@pixyys @pianotross @chuuyas-beloved @fi-nn-losofia @nekokinax @xxelfmamaxx @yukitomybeloved @sariel626 @i-just-like-goats @ashthemadwriter @yuugen-benni @lakeside-paradise @irethepotato @voyagewiththesatan @scarletta-ruan @catzlivedforbsd @arisu-chan4646

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #rimbaud x reader #bsd christmas #bsd fluff #silverbladexyz

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dantesunbreaker · 9 months

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Why Do You Lie? Ch. 2/3

Daryl Dixon x Transmasculine Reader

I have this posted on Ao3, but I like having my work cross posted. This has some pretty heavy themes so be warned.

Trigger Warnings: Attempted Suicide, Mention of Transphobia, Mentions of Drug Overdose, Self Harm, Mental Illness

Scavenging what you could find within the convenience store had been simple as a breeze when you once again had the relief of medication in your system. When two walkers had stumbled out from a blocked door you didn’t so much as flinch before driving your knife through both their skulls. But, you feel an icy stare at your back. Daryl watches your every move like a hawk, expecting that you are going to freeze up again. It hurts more the fact the acher won’t utter a single word to you.

So, when all bags are full to the point none of you could even imagine being able to carry more, you eye Daryl ask he starts his bike. You watch him turn his head back towards you a fraction of an inch, but not daring to turn enough for you to enter his field of vision. Hesitant, you let all your insecurities bubble up inside you. Sucking in a deep breath, you make your decision.

Thankfully, while Michonne gives you a look as you drop into the passenger seat of the car, she doesn’t make any remark. Fidgeting with your seatbelt, you miss the way Daryl’s muscles tense up before he is back on the road again. You fiddle nervously with the strap of your bag before you sigh and place it on the center console between the seats. Daryl kicks off onto the journey back home and you find yourself watching him shrink into the distance as he keeps a large lead between you.

“You know how Daryl is,” Michonne breaks the silence, noticing the way you continue to gaze out the windshield at the archer. “He’s a stubborn man that doesn’t know how to handle his emotions. But Y/N, he only is being like this because he cares about you. Daryl just wants you to be safe.”

“Maybe,” you force yourself to turn away, forehead resting against the side window as you watch the world go by. “I’m not so sure of that right now. I know he cares in his own way, but I just don’t know if I can convince myself it’s about me and not just because I'm part of the group.”

“Give it time.”

Sometimes you wish that you could be as certain as Michonne. You don’t give her a response, knowing she doesn’t really need or expect one. Instead a comfortable silence falls over you for the rest of the trip, leaving you to your own thoughts once more.

It’s peaceful, to the point you nearly drift to sleep on the trip, feeling both mentally and physically burnt out from the roller coaster of a day you experienced. But it isn’t over yet. As the prison slowly creeps into view, you know that you have plenty of work yet to come. Probably a million questions soon await you as well. Rick and Carl are already waiting, having seen your vehicles approaching and are quick to open the gates just long enough for you to pass through. Driving up the dirt path to the second gate, you watch the pigs in the small hand built pen with a smile as you pass. As Michonne parks just inside the perimeter of the yard you notice that Daryl is nowhere in sight, likely having gone off somewhere secluded to unload his bike.

You’re first out of the vehicle, moving straight to the back of the car to begin unpacking. It takes a moment for Michonne to follow you out, and you notice your bag clutched by the strap in one of her hands.

“Don’t forget this,” she calls while skillfully tossing it across the top of the car to you. “I’ll be back to help in a moment.”

Not questioning where Michonne is off to, you begin to inventory your haul. There is probably enough food to feed everyone for a couple months, though with Rick’s crops coming it, it had the potential to last even longer. When it comes to the medical supplies, it is hard to judge how long everything will last however. But it certainly is enough to replace everything in the infirmary at least three times over.

As you are about to begin unloading, you look up to see Rick and Michonne walking side by side in your direction. Michonne catches your eye and gives a completely neutral expression you are left utterly unable to gauge. This could be bad. Ducking your head you quickly turn away from them and attempt to look deep into sorting supplies.

“Y/N, can I borrow you for just a moment?” At Rick's words your stomach drops. Anything but this. Facing Rick, knowing that he knows you weren’t being honest... well let’s just say you would rather shoot yourself in the foot. But you aren’t a complete coward.

With eyes closed tight, you suck in a deep breath before you turn to accept your fate.

“Yes, Rick?”

As much as you don’t want to meet his intense gaze, you lock eyes with the scruffy older gentleman. If only for the briefest of moments. Better than nothing. But in that moment, instead of anger in Rick’s sky blue eyes, you swear you see something else. What is it? Remorse.

“Walk with me.”

Casting your gaze to your own boots, you fall into stride with the other man. There is a knot growing in your gut as you dwell over every possible way this conversation could go. Would he send you away? In pulling the wool over his eyes to go on the run, did you jeopardize your welcomeness within the prison? After a while, when you’re well past the cell blocks and away from the others gathering out in the yard, Rick stops with a deep sigh, his back to you and rests his hands on his belt.

“You’ve been with us for a while now, Y/N,” Rick begins, voice soft yet full of authority, just loud enough for you to hear. “We found you, we took you in just a few months before taking this place. I’ve seen you put yourself at risk to save others. To protect Carl. To protect Judith. So, it’s just something I don’t quite understand.”

Rick finally turns back to face you, a strained look of something akin to pain in his eyes as he takes a step closer to you. Your lip trembles. Distress and fear makes you want to turn and run from the situation. Flight or fight instinct kicking in and telling you to leave an uncomfortable situation. But you keep yourself together, grounding yourself as best as you are able.

“You are part of this group, part of this family, Y/N,” Rick leans closer to you, adjusting to your height until you can’t help but look into his eyes. “You are important. Not a single person here would judge you, and if there is, be sure to send them my way and I will get them sorted.”

Appearing to be out of near thin air, Rick holds one up of the bottles of your medication in front of you for you both to see. Shit. Michonne must have slipped one out of your bag while you weren’t looking in the car.

“You gotta know, there is no need to hide from us,” grabbing your wrist with a firm calloused hand, Rick turns it over and places the bottle back into your palm. “If this is what keeps you safe, what keeps you with us, then it’s important to us too. You give us a list of what you need, what to look for, and we will get it for you. You don't have to be afraid. We will take care of you."

You can't help the few tears that trickle down your cheeks before you hastily wipe them away with the back of your sleeve. It’s hard knowing what to say. But the look on Rick’s face as you continually wipe at the tears that just won’t seem to stop, you know he understands what you want to say without needing to utter a single word. With a wink and a nod, he moves past you, giving you a firm clap on the back as goes.

Feeling as though a heavy weight has been lifted from your chest, you allow a small smile to form on your lips. Maybe there is hope. Maybe the time has come to take a chance and to stop letting your inner demons be your voice of reason. Tucking the small bottle into your pocket, you turn back to help unload the car with a much lighter spring in your step.

With the help of a few former citizens of Woodbury, it doesn’t take more than half an hour to have the vehicle completely unpacked. Neat stacks are organized by where they need to go while people carry what they can to their designated locations. By the time everything is said and done, you are exhausted, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to the back of your neck. All you can think about is how nice it will feel to drop into your bunk for a much needed rest.

All that is left is your personal bag, still loaded with your haul of anti-anxiety meds, which is slinging over your shoulder. You try to tell yourself that perhaps after a night to unwind and settle from all this excitement you will talk to Hershel about stocking some in the infirmary. Maybe someone else was struggling just as much as you and could use them as well. Distracted, you pay no mind to what is in front of you, and thus let out a startled gasp as you collide with something warm and solid before falling flat on your backside. Beside you is your bag splayed out against the ground, contents scattered all around you.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going!” You stumble over an apology before you even look up, but once you do your voice catches. Crystal blue eyes stare down at you. Daryl.

Panic creeps in as you fumble to shove everything back into your open bag before the archer takes note of the numerous bottles of pills. But that of course is an unrealistic fantasy. With heart beating fast, you think it may explode as you watch in slow motion Daryl crouching and taking a bottle in his hands where he turns it over carefully.

“Just like Merle,” Daryl’s voice is a low growl, hard eyes staring through you. The bottle is thrown back at the ground. “Always hoarding whatever shit he could get his hands on. I’m tired of losing people, so not gonna keep takin’ that risk. Ya ain’t going outside that fence no more. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

So badly do you want to correct him, to explain what the pills are for, why they are so important and essential to you, but you can’t find your voice again. Though, this time your instinct for flight gets the better of you. Forgetting your bag, forgetting your meds, you leap up and push past Daryl, nearly knocking him over as you sprint inside the cell block. Tears sting your eyes as you run, ignore all those that call out your name as you pass. Not until you reach an empty cell block far into the depths of the prison do you slow to a stop. Just a few days before Rick had sent in a group to clear the block.

Making sure both entrance and exit doors are secure, you make your way to an empty cell and press your back against the wall and slide until you hit the ground. Trembling hands grab your shins and pull your center until your head rests on your raised knees. A violent sob shakes your body, tears burning your eyes.

“Why am I like this?” You cry out to the empty room. It echoes back in your ears and reminds you how truly alone you are.

Hours pass as you stare endlessly at the concrete wall across from you that you see but don’t actually acknowledge as being there. You teeter somewhere on the edge of being numb and debilitated with pain. But nothing erases the aching pain that stabs at your heart. There is no light that can pierce the darkness that is your thoughts as you think of how you could eliminate a problem for those at the prison. In ending your suffering, you could relieve them of the burden of your care.

Choking on a sob, you rip the shirt off your chest to stare and the raised white scars that scatter from shoulder to elbow, some ever so fainter ones bleeding down into your forearms. Besides the two large scars under your chest is a fine speckling of scars stretching across your ribs and soft stomach. Beyond the beltline it only continues. Hip to knee is not only thick with scar tissue from repeat injections but criss crossed with jagged lines.

At least that was something you could say you were good at, being smart enough to only place your wounds where it was easy to hide. You can’t recall the last time a new scar was added to your mass collection. Sometime after the dead began to walk the earth, but not long before Rick and the group had found you and taken you in. The joy and sense of belonging that had brought you was enough to combat that ever present part of you. Or at least you thought it was. Rick may think of you as part of the family, but you can’t shake the feeling they would be better off without you. Daryl, the one you care for and love most of all, you fear never really cared for you at all. Though it’s too late now though, you wish that you had told him how you really felt about him. You know it’s something he needs to hear, that people are capable of loving and caring about him. Something you fear he doesn’t realize himself.

Drawing your knife from the sheath on your belt, your hand moves without an active thought as you stare at your wrist. Letting out a soft sigh, you watch the dark red line that begins to travel down the length of your forearm. Location shouldn’t matter this time. You don’t have to care if anyone can see the scar, because this should be the last one.

Numb, you remember the bottle that Rick handed to you. It is still in your pocket. With the hand not trickling with blood, you pull the medication from your pocket and pop the lid. A cold and empty laugh leaves you. Something that is so necessary to your ability to function has somehow brought an abrupt halt to your happy ending. You put one on your tongue and promptly swallow, frowning at the horrid taste. At least you can be calm as you wait.

For a moment you consider why just stop at one. You could take the whole bottle just to make sure that you’ve finished yourself off. But you pause. You think back to Daryl. What would he say when he saw you like this? Death by overdose just like he probably expects from you. You can’t win, even in death. Fresh tears fall as you let out a guttural scream, throwing the open bottle at the wall and watch the explosion of pills rain down around the cell. With a quivering sob, you close your eyes and wait, dreaming of better days of being without pain.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x trans reader #daryl dixon x ftm reader #daryl x reader #walking dead fanfiction

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your-local-grubdog · 11 months

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Guess Who Beat TotK Today!

I just beat Tears of the Kingdom's main story today! And so I wanted to scream about my thoughts here really quickly with a spoiler-free review. Maybe I'll come back some day to give some more thoughts on spoilers.

Overall, the game is really fun and even amazing. Ultrahand is such a fun mechanic to mess around with, I've built a lot of fun stuff using it. Others have really pushed the mechanic to its limits and it genuinely feels a bit like engineering with how much testing and re testing and making updated versions of things you've designed in the past. I genuinely mean it when I say it feels like it teaches players the core skills of engineering. No, most of what you build isn't realistic, but you are learning how to be patient, how to carefully examine problems, how to work with limited resources (in the cases of shrines and when you realize "fuck I'm out of [thing] what else can I use"), and how to accommodate for other limitations like space, material properties, and gravity. None of it is 100% realistic, but it's more about the fact that you get used to such things which can be applied to the real world albeit with different limitations. Think like how working with redstone in Minecraft is sometimes refereed to as redstone engineering. That being said, I think my only issue with Ultrahand is that the furthest distance from which you can grab objects and the furthest distance you can move objects to feels like it's just barely too short. I understand this was a balancing choice, but I can't count the number of times I thought to myself "how can I not reach that" or "how can I not put it there".

Fuse alleviated the issue of monster fights in BotW not being worth it after a certain point. Monsters don't just drop weapons and potion ingredients, but also weapon parts - meaning that, in general, you'll be getting more resources from fights than you put into them so long as you didn't get in over your head or otherwise messed something up. Granted, as you progress through the game fighting lower-tired enemies will eventually become pointless, but to a far more acceptable degree than in BotW. In that game, I eventually avoided all monster fights unless I really needed a specific drop or they had a weapon I wanted. In TotK, I just ignored weaker monsters with worse drops in favor of stronger monsters with better drops. This system also made the durability mechanic much more bearable, as you could more reliably get good weapons.

The game also tried to make rain less annoying which it... mostly succeeded at. There's now a "slip resistance" stat you can get from armor, food, and potions. By and large, this works, even with the inclusion of surfaces that are always slippery to climb no matter what. But there's one floating sky island that's always slippery due to rain, has really sheer cliffs, and if you fall chances are you're falling out of the sky entirely, and I hate it with every fiber of my being </3

Both the skies and the depths were fun to explore, each providing their own challenges and mechanics. All three "levels" of the map felt super different and expansive, effectively meaning that - even though they did re-use BotW's surface - the map size has been more than doubled, meaning there is so much to explore. I will say that most places in he depths feel very samey and that, besides a few major land marks, I probably couldn't locate where any specific clip or screenshot was taken without the mini map present. Sky islands also suffer from sameness but to a lesser degree. The skies could have also benefited from one or two more islands the same size as the starting one that are also unrelated to story progress. Both for sake of variety and for more places to explore. Regarding the depths again, I understand the desire to make the depths climate-controlled except for the lava area, but I do wish they let the Gerudo Depths be sweltering hot as well and mountain depth be freezing cold, each with their own aesthetic. Still, the extra spaces to explore with their unique challenges and loot are welcome, and I just adore how progressing in your exploration of one aids in the exploration of the others; exploring the surface grants you resources to get through the other two while also granting ways to get to the depths and skies, the skies have resources unique to them that make travel faster for all layers and depths travel safer, and the depths have resources useful for fights in all layers as well as upgrades that make travel faster in all layers. Exploring the depths also helps you find land marks on the surface (and vise-versa).

WE ALSO GOT NEW ENEMIES!!! The enemy variety in BotW was severely lacking, which has been largely rectified. Some enemies are unique to the depths and one enemy type is only found in one area on the surface prior to making story progress (after which it is depths only), but the increase is still greatly welcomed. Excluding color/skeletal/elemental/other variants, we went from 11 basic enemies and 3 "mini boss" enemies to 19 basic enemies and 7 mini boss enemies if I am counting right. More variety is always more fun!

Dungeons were also MASSIVELY improved from BotW! They all have unique themes and unique bosses rather than using the same theme/similar bosses. All of them were pretty good as well, still being completely nonlinear. That being said, there are some bosses that I didn't care for. I won't go into detail until the spoilers section, but the TL:DR for them are as follows:

One boss you have to fight using a brand new mechanic that I don't think we were given enough time to really figure out, not helped by the fact that the second phase does that annoying "you must wait a random amount of time for the boss to finally do the one thing that will let you attack" thing. Not a hard fight in the grand scheme of things, but an annoying one

The second phase of one of the Zora temple boss (which is what I'll call it to be as light on spoilers as possible) is so goddamn annoying. It moves faster than you and you have a narrow window of opportunity from which to attack. Not helped by the fact that... the way I'll phrase it here is that you need to be physically close to the thing that makes the boss vulnerable to attack to, well, make the boss vulnerable, but sometimes you're just. Not close! And can't get close enough in time! Just the second phase is bad, though, first is fine.

Two phases of the final boss really rely on you being able to execute flurry rushes with tighter timing than usual or just tank the hits. Prepare to either practice perfect dodges or - if you're like me and just suck ass at timing - get a lot of gloom defense and gloom heals ready. Like a lot a lot of heals, the road to the final boss is designed to drain your resources. Maybe put a travel medallion down occasionally so you can leave, restock, and return while maintaining progress.

All that being said, the Gerudo temple boss is my favorite in the game and maybe even my favorite across the few Zelda games I've played! It's just a lot of fun, there's so much to keep track of yet it never feels completely overwhelming or annoying (though the very final phase of the final boss is very kickass and I love it too). In fact, the Gerudo questline in general was my favorite of them all.

I also liked how the first town (at least, the first one the game tells you to go to) will change over time to reflect story progress. Just a nice touch. And while I won't say a peep about the story I will say that it was fantastic. Nothing ground breaking, of course, but a good time for sure.

Very low context spoilers, you won't know what I'm talking about until you see it yourself, but the Gloom Spawn enemies absolutely should have been named either Dead Hands, Red Hands, or Wall Masters. Just saying.

My over all thoughts is that the game is good, really damn good. Solid 9/10 for me. There's so much to do and see and much fun to be had. It is absolutely worth your time. Your money, however... This is a $70 game instead of a $60 and, honestly, as much as I love it and want to recommend it whole heartedly, I find that it struggles to justify the increased price tag. The world is massive, yes, and the physics engine is still amazing, but it was built using BotW as a base. Had it not done that and still be just as bug and dense, yes, easily worth the extra money. But as a product based on a separate game that was $60, I don't find the extra stuff added to be enough to justify the higher price point. Either snag a used copy or use that voucher thing Nintendo has on offer. Just don't pay the full $70 if you can avoid it.

#tears of the kingdom #totk #the legend of zelda #loz #borb screams #I mostly post about pikmin stuff but this shall be an exception #mostly for that last paragraph

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girlblogging9 · 2 years

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A flashback,a living memory

Screams silenced by an abuse

I have a lot of flashbacks,mainly because of legal issues regarding the abuser,these legal processes should have ended a long time ago,but he tries in every way to create situations (problems) so that it takes twice as long as normal and maintain a bond,that it is a form of torture that gives him pleasure.

This week I'm going to see my psychiatrist and ask him if there's any other medication that might help me with this mental torment that keeps me from sleep, so I'm going to report to him the specific flashback that's causing it. This memory was dormant for a while,but due to the abuser's persecution she decided to return,the brain "freezes" some trauma memories works as a defense and survival system,but when these memories come back they can destroy you.

It was one afternoon,he immobilized me on the living room floor and started to hang me,and I could barely breathe or scream and while he was doing that he was praying to the Christian God,asking his God for forgiveness and telling me that it would be okay to he kill me for my soul would go to heaven.

Away from my family,scared,extremely thin and sick physically and psychologically,I saw myself with no way out and felt suffocated. And I wondered how I'm going to get out of here,penniless,sick and how am I going to prove that I was abused and assaulted if I didn't film most of the abuse and he used my mental sequelae to manipulate me and make himself a "victim". For him this was all normal and I deserved it, so he acted like nothing had happened and on Sundays there he was praying to God in a church,I told his mother and his sister about the abuses but it was in vain, according to them I didn't pray enough and should be submissive,keep silent because a biblical woman doesn't confront her men.

These days these people go to church,post bible verses on their social media,try to maintain a perfect and pure reputation, evangelize and live as if they have done nothing wrong and are innocent. But I don't,I spend sleepless nights and live on medicine so I don't hear his screams in my mind saying he hated me,that he was going to kill me,insults,the pain I feel where my bones were broken and damages my whole diction.

They faithfully believe that they are good people and deceive a multitude of idiots around the world and that they will inhabit the magical paradise of Christians. They say my present suffering is the fault of my sins and I will burn in hell. If hell really exists as they say,I wish that every one of them would rot there one day and be abused every day by satan as they did me,that his screams for help be silenced, just as they silenced my screams.

It's very easy for them to go to church and pray,hide the blood on their hands and use God and appearance as a hiding place. But each of them confess everything they did to me and the situation they left me in none of them has the courage to say,in their perception the fact that they are Christians cancels the responsibility for their mistakes and crimes.

Every punch I took in my face I was forced to hear,PRAY,PRAY,PRAY IT'S YOUR FAULT. I spent years asking for forgiveness for things that weren't my fault but they never asked me for forgiveness for anything, his family always hiding what he really is and did.

That man hated everything about me, everything...My voice,my appearance,my illness,the fact that I didn't accept his double life,he used me until there was nothing left inside me and he always, always and always interpreted his behavior as normal. He managed to destroy something I dreamed of since my childhood,build a family nowadays I don't dream,I survive.

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noodlemethis · 8 months

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"Life's pretty good"

she said, in response to my asking how she's doing. She said it in a matter of fact way, a simple fact, not much thought needed, no hesitation nor justification. But it left me in a state I can't describe with just one word. It's when you feel your body-soul be pulled both forward and backward at the same time, and your heart space falls downwards into an empty cave. I felt winded even though my body was filling itself with in air quite desperately.

I stood there stunned in silence. But all the while allowing, or maybe forcing, my outer self to nod and coo something like "ooo wow" or "how so" or "what's been good recently". Meanwhile in the empty cave, I took a few seconds to get my bearings. I considered: Okay. That was a wild response. I can't believe she's truly just so happy. It makes sense though that her life is pretty good. She's got her girlfriend, her job she likes, she's doing her masters, she lives on her own. All the aspects of life I wish I had a handle on. Meanwhile I'm so behind ...

I felt the familiar sting of a very particular envy wash through the cave, for just a few moments. Worried that my friend would realize i had slipped off from the conversation into another dimension, I quickly tabled the background voices until the end of the meal.

I didn't want to start this blog writing about hard things. But trying to find something else to talk about hasn't been working. My brain just oscillates between 3 negative emotions every day: envy, disappointment and anxiety. I envy my loved ones, my peers, who 'have a handle on' their lives. They know where they're going, or who they're going with, why they're going where they are going, and even what they want to be doing as they navigate. I don't have answers to any of those questions. Not even one. The anxiety builds. Will I ever find the answer? Will I grow old so unremarkable, having done none of the flashy world-saving things my teen self envisioned we would do? The disappointment rattles me. I feel a familiar freezing touch of hopelessness.

"I should move to another country. It'll help me find myself". I fast pan outwards, shifting the view back to anxiety. No, no. I can't do life without my friends, my support system. Alone in another country? For what? So that I can scare myself shitless working towards I don't even know what? I should say with her. With all of them. I shouldnt waste the time I have with my loved ones. Because soon, they will move too, for real. When their whats and whys dictate that they should. I'll be alone later, I shouldnt waste the together time now. Their life doesn't follow mine in the way that I look to and follow them. I'll lose them.

I shouldn't chase happiness. I shouldn't be so locked in rigidity. I should try new things. I should be communicative. I should clean my room. I shouldn't waste my time playing games. I should be strong. I shouldn't give up.

It's really hard to describe what I feel in that space between. The hollow drop heart space. The body-soul empty cave. I just know I hate it. I hate life. God do I wish I could say life's pretty good without a second thought. But my life is a fucking circus. A Ferris wheel ride. I sit and it moves. I anticipate the view to eventually get good- I wait as patiently as I can for the rotation to finally be worth all this time spent. But every time I look out, the view is always just a little underwhelming. Every night I wonder why I got on the ride. And why I'm still on it.

#20s #life #life feelings #struggling in your 20s

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runelover2005 · 1 year

Text

Checkpoints

Anything can be a checkpoint. Your birthday, the new year, a life changing event. It's the moment you look back at and reflect on that just feels different from your other memories. The memories that play back in your head with sharp clarity when you've nothing else better to do. Sometimes you'll have several checkpoints back to back where you no longer know which one is the true dividing line.

Sometimes they're so far apart where you no longer know what happened between this one and the last one. Was it just filler? Lots of side quests meant to pass the time and earn useless trinkets? Who knows? Because I sure don't.

Right now, as I sit, with the freezing rain clinging to the window. Procrastinating the errands which destine me to voyage into the cold and wet outdoors. Leaving the warmth of my home far behind no matter for how short or long of a time seems so dreadful.

But I can't help but think about check points. Several months ago I found myself in the position of giving up nearly everything for love. My career, the search for a home in the place I'd lived nearly two decades, and almost worse, my possessions.

You see, different from a century or so ago where moving was a matter of luggage crates and a long while on a ship. The modern conundrum is whether or not the airlines will allow your luggage. Three sturdy boxes full of heavy memories or three bags with your necessities and a carrier with your life's companion?

At the time I didn't think I would miss my special edition of the Lord of the Rings series crammed full of sticky notes and annotations. Goodness knows how much dust it had accumulated since I had last opened it. But I definitely knew I'd miss my ragged 8th edition textbook from high school that I still referenced for problems and diagrams in my own classroom. I thought it would lead a better life in the hands of another teacher rather than at 1/2 Price books.

All my cooking molds. Donated to a family that could liven up their child's lunchboxes instead of my own. My metal bread dough paddle I bought with quarters from the Dollar Tree back in my broke college days. Honestly it wasn't that great and I've since found a much better replacement but I still find myself missing it's cool touch in my hand.

I thought my check point was the day I looked at my empty apartment luggage stacked at the door, best friend waiting in her crate for the Uber. Or maybe the long wait at the airport as my flight was delayed and my friends and family message me, worried and wishing me the best. My thoughts riddled with anxiety about being denied at the border control or being told my luggage didn't arrive with me. Thankfully, none of those fears came true.

But it seems my check point was actually the moments where I tried to decide where my books would be donated. Who would take my couch, my dining room table? Where would all my favorite kitchen appliances go?

My checkpoint was every moment I made a conscious decision to let go of the things I had built around me. Saying goodbye to the items I had squirreled away for my own comfort and my "future home". All to make way for a new future.

I don't have any regrets, but it's silly to think that every now and again I'll miss a stupid mismatched spoon or a dusty book with a cracked cover.

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moonlit-reveriee · 3 years

Text

Baby Blue

technoblade x fem!reader

concept: techno is scared of ‘corrupting’ the reader, but the reader’s kinda into it...

content warning // NSFW, virgin!reader, very minor angst?, small argument that gets resolved

listen to this while you read: BBBlue (Single) by Olivver the Kid

(this fic was heavily inspired by the lyrics of this song, so i highly recommended giving it a listen!)

───※ ·❆· ※───

When Techno found out you were a virgin, he was terrified. Not necessarily of the thought itself, but of the implications.

He’d never forget the look on your face when you told him. You tried to be casual about it, but he knew you well enough to spot the dusting of pink across your cheeks. You nuzzled yourself closer into his side. Whether out of embarrassment or something else entirely, he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was his heart dropping as the voices chanted at him to “ruin her”

Of course you, his pure sweet angel, would be a virgin. He once again crumbled under the idea that you had chosen him. How on earth could a person like you even think of being with a beast like him. Yet alone, giving up your virginity to him.

He hated how horribly turned on he was by the thought of taking it.

The voices had been relentless about it ever since. They were hyper focused on your every move, twisting every thought of his into something promiscuous. When you rolled out of bed in the morning and stretched, a small sigh escaping your lips, it was endless cries of “make her do that again” “you should fuck those moans out of her” “make her scream”

While making breakfast together in the morning, they wouldn’t stop telling him to “bend her over the counter” “take it right here”

Even at times where he was alone, the voices preoccupied him with endless thoughts of you. He was fairly certain they had forced him to imagine every possible way in which he could have you. “imagine fucking her against the wall” “you can be gentle for the first time y’know” “she’d feel so good writhing underneath us” “press her face into the mattress instead” “make her get on her knees and suck you off” “she’ll be such a pretty little slut for us”

He tried to take care of himself as often as he could, but it was becoming impossible to keep up with. There were only so many times a day he could jerk himself off alone behind locked doors. He was desperate, and sexually frustrated to say the least.

He felt disgusting for it.

After a week of this torment, he could barely even look at you yet alone touch you without the voices and his own guilt pounding against his skull. You couldn’t even think about broaching the subject again, because he was avoiding physical contact like the plague. He wouldn’t come to bed until he knew you were asleep, and would leave long before you woke.

As much as he tried to hide it, you could tell he was tired. Something was wrong, but you knew that he’d never just tell you about his problems unprompted. Techno was insufferably stubborn in that way. After several days of avoiding your gaze and leaning away from your touch, you chose to confront him.

“Techno”, you called for his attention quietly, trying to sound stern while remaining gentle with him. He didn’t turn to fully face you, but he glanced at the spot on the wall just above your head.

You struggled to find the words you wanted to say, so you settled on telling him, “Techno, you look tired.”

He turned his attention away from you. “Just a lot of work around the house this week. I’ll be fine after I rest.”

“Then come to bed with me.” You saw the way his body tensed and tilted away from you at that simple suggestion.

“I just need to write a couple letters first. You can go ahead of me.”

“Techno...”, you whined, daring to take a step closer to him. He gave you an almost panicked look, “why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you”, he responded quickly, trying to look through you instead of at you.

“Yes you have”, you responded firmly. A flash of guilt washed over his face at your tone. “You haven’t kissed or touched me for nearly a week now. I don’t even know for sure if you sleep in the same bed as me anymore. Fuck, you barely even talk to me.”

Angry tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you wanted to hold them in. Techno felt his chest tighten at the sight of it. He instinctively turned and reached out to comfort you, but forced himself to freeze.

“There”, you said, gesturing towards him, “just like that. You’re stopping yourself. Why are you doing that?”

He repeatedly opened and closed his fists at his side, wanting to have any conversation other than this one.

“[y/n], there’s just a lot going on in my mind right now”, he said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “I just need to work though it.”

“Then let me help you.”

“No”, he responded a little too quickly, “I- I mean, I just don’t want to talk about it with you yet...”

“Why not?”, you retorted, trying to squeeze any information you could out of him.

“I just don’t, okay? It’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“... is this about me being a virgin?”

“I never said that”, he replied, but the tension in his shoulders was enough to tip you off.

“Ah geez Technoblade, if it was that much of a problem for ya, you should have just told me”, you said sarcastically, “instead of avoiding all physical contact for a like week straight!”

“It’s not a problem, [y/n].”

“Certainly doesn’t feel that way.”

Techno huffed in frustration, grabbing a fistful of his hair at the root. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset with himself, or the fact that a few of the voices were still begging him to “please fuck her already”

“Love, I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want it. They”, he tapped a finger against the side of his skull, “they want it so badly. It’s driving me insane.”

He breathed in and out shakily, trying to gauge your expression in the brief moments before he continued.

“I’m a monster. I’ve spilt more blood than anyone every should in a single lifetime. My appearance is more beast than man.”

He looked up briefly to find you staring right at him, a tight-lipped frown upon your face.

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“I- ... I don’t want to corrupt your innocence”, he admitted.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“[y/n], you’re so perfect”, he answered almost breathlessly, “you’re so kind and so pure. Just living with me does enough to taint your reputation, I don’t wanna-“

He cut himself off to swallow thickly. He almost seemed scared of the words he was going to say next.

“I don’t want to ruin this part of you either...”

A heavy silence filled the tiny sitting room of techno’s cottage. In those few seconds, your eyes widened ever so slightly as his words suddenly clicked in your mind. This hulking boar of a man, an undisputed war criminal, was scared. He was scared of damaging you, your reputation, or your recently revealed ‘innocence’. Compared to himself, he saw you as a pure being who could be tainted by unwholesome thoughts.

If what he said about the voices was true, then his actions of the past few days would’ve made sense for him.

“Oh techno...”, you muttered softly, tentatively placing a hand on his jaw. His posture was curled inward, making him look small despite his size. He was stiff at first, but allowed you to lift his gaze to meet yours. He searched your eyes desperately for an indication of your reaction. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

A small wave of confusion washed over his face, but he nodded anyways. “It was at the festival...”

“That’s right”, you said, moving the hand on his face down to rest over his shoulder, “and do you remember what I did that day?”

“You threw an axe into Schlatt’s shoulder”, he answered, watching as the scene played out in his memory.

You lived with Niki in her bakery at the time, and witnessed firsthand the injustice she faced during Schlatt’s presidency. As the chaos after Tubbo’s execution occurred, you took the opportunity to hurl your axe where Schlatt stood upon his podium. The blow wasn’t fatal, but that wasn’t necessarily your goal. You just wanted to see the man in pain.

“It was a lucky shot really”, you admitted, “I wasn’t even aiming properly.” That managed to draw a small smile onto Techno’s lips.

“And do you remember”, you continued, “when I tried to confront the Butcher Army by myself?”

He grimaced at the thought. You had told him you just needed to make a quick trip to L’manburg for some supplies, leaving him at home alone to recover from the previous day’s events. You returned that evening with a sprained wrist and a couple large bruises forming on your body. None of them were trying to kill you, but you took a pretty good beating from Quackity just for trying to confront them.

“Why are you bringing all of this up now?”, he asked.

“Because”, you said, “this is the evidence that will support my next point.”

He looked bewildered by that statement, but continued to listen.

“I’m not a perfect person”, you resumed, “I have blood on my hands just like you do. I know it’s hard to compare to you, but I’m not devoid of my own sins. I can be mean, I’ve hurt people. I’m not a pure, angelic being who would quiver at a single inappropriate thought. I think you forget that sometimes.”

He let your words swirl around in his head; he couldn’t deny the logic in them. The evidence prevented him from denying the truth of your statement. He could almost be mad that you’d talked him into a corner, but he was more overjoyed at the fact that you knew him well enough to do so.

“And you know...”, you spoke quietly, letting your hand fall down to rest on his chest, “if you did somehow ‘corrupt my innocence’ as you say... I really wouldn’t mind that.”

Techno’s breath hitched in his throat. There were a brief few moments, maybe minutes, where he just stared at you. Then his lips were on yours; sudden and clumsy, but passionate. You gripped the fabric of his shirt as he grabbed at your waist, desperate to have you in his arms again.

“I’m sorry, I had to”, he muttered, his lips left hovering a hair’s breadth away from yours.

“You’re so silly sometimes”, you sighed affectionately, rubbing small circles into his collarbone. He gave you a gentle smirk before pressing another kiss into your lips.

“I’m sorry darling, I really am”, he said as he drew you into a tight hug. He took in your scent and the feel of your skin for the first time in days. It felt like he could survive off the feeling of your arms wrapped around his body alone. He wondered why he ever let himself be depraved of this.

“You know I trust you, right?”, you spoke with your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not sure why, but yes.”

You decided not to reprimand him for saying that. You could help him unpack all that later. Instead, you brought your head up to whisper in his ear.

“You have my full and unconditional consent to take my virginity whenever you’re ready.”

Techno inhaled and held his breath, though for what, he wasn’t sure. It took a while for the full weight of those words to sink in. He leaned back to stare at your face, bringing one of his large and shaky hands up to cup your cheek.

“Are you sure?”, his eyes were wide with trepidation, practically pleading with you to tell him the truth. You leaned into his palm, indulging in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I want you, techno. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Techno was lost in your words. The sudden absence of guilt left his heart light and airy in his chest. For the first time in days, the voices were only a gentle murmur.

“she’s so beautiful” “she wants you” “make her feel good” “show her how special she is” “make her smile” “she’ll be so pretty” “she’s always pretty” “be gentle, no need to rush”

“make love to her”

“... I think I’m ready now.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

ayyyy guess who finally finished writing something!!!

parts of this feel a little rushed but ehhhhhh i was just excited to finally post it. i looove writing techno as an extremely self-conscious character who’s too caught up in their own head to see how ridiculous they’re being. so, this was a treat for me to write

i hope you enjoyed :D

-moonlight

#c!techno #red:moon #mcyt x reader #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt smut #techno smut

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celestialevie · 3 years

Text

Birthday surprise // Niall Horan x singer! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none

A/N: Since it's officially my birthday week and Niall's has just passed, I decided to write this very self-indulgent fic (even though I can't sing, but a girl can dream </3). I mostly wrote this for myself because I adore this human with my whole heart. Anyways hope someone will enjoy this fic just as much as I did writing it.

Finishing the first two songs, you chat a little with your fans. Noticing some of the signs they brought with them to get you to notice them, some of them making you laugh, while some of them made your heart clench with love. Sitting down at the piano, starting to play 'champagne problems'. While you were in the happiest relationship to date now, you still had some issues with your past relationships, where you were made the villain and them a victim when in reality it was the literal opposite. Niall was the blessing you were praying for. So what if you were fucked in the head? Niall loved you just the way you were.

Your birthday was coming up, and you were going to spend it while being in one of the cities you absolutely love touring in – Dublin. Although you were heartbroken because this will be the first birthday you were going to celebrate without your boyfriend, Niall. Ever since you've known him, you celebrated both of your birthdays with one another. His tour lead him to being in America during your birthday, which really sucked. You were both bummed out about it, he even offered to reschedule that concert, so he can be with you in Dublin, maybe even visit his family whilst already being in Ireland, you told him no. You didn't want to be selfish just because it's your birthday. Talking on the phone with him right from the moment he was awake (which was already in the afternoon for you). '' It feels weird to not be with you on your birthday, how will I survive without my birthday kisses and hugs from you? '' you ask while pouting. Niall chuckled and mimicked your put. '' I will give you your birthday kisses and hugs as soon as I see you. With extra ones for each day between your birthday and the day we see each other again. I promise. '' he gives you a smile. And you just pout harder. '' I really miss you. I can't wait to see you soon. '' checking the time, you realize it's almost time for you to start getting ready. '' Hey baby, I have to go start getting ready soon. I'll make sure Jenna calls you to FaceTime and shows you at least some concert if you're not busy. I love you and I miss you. '' as you say that, you hang up and quickly text your makeup artist, she can come over. Two minutes later, her and Jenna (your assistant and close friend) are in your dressing room, and you're getting ready. An hour later, you were done with your makeup and hair and all that was left was to put on your outfit. Ten minutes later, you were slowly making your way towards stage. Quickly texting Niall another I love you, and wishing him good luck on his own show later, you were off on the stage, the intro of your song' dress' starting to play as you were brought onto the stage. Let the fun begin.

After champagne problems, one of your favourite songs you wrote was next.

''... Don Perignon you brought it, no crowd of friends applauded

your hometown sceptics called it, champagne problems.''

'' A lot of you might not know, but this next song was inspired after I was done watching the amazing spider-man 2 for the millionth time. My love for Emma Stone and Andrew Garfield is unmatchable. Just ask my boyfriend, who's been hanging out with Tom Holland, how both of them are feeling betrayed by my love for both Amazing Spider-man's movies. This is How you get the girl. '' The intro of the song started playing and so were the screams of people.

Singing two more songs, you go get changed into a different outfit. Going back onto the stage, you're surprised that your manager Anna is standing there with a grin on her face.

'' Stand there like a ghost

Shaking from the rain

She'll open up the door and say 'are you insane?'

Say it's been long six months

And you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want...''

'' Uh-oh, manager is grinning, prepare yourselves guys, it's not going to be good. '' The crowd laughs while Anna rolls her eyes and smiles at you. '' We have a small surprise for you. '' as she says that, she points on the big screen behind you, when you turn around you are surprised to see a familiar face of one of your closest friends, Lewis Capaldi, wishing you a happy birthday and saying you guys need to go clubbing again soon. Laughing as his face fades away and the next one shows up, your very close friend and sometimes co-writer Taylor Swift, again wishing you the happiest birthday and saying how much she adores working with you and that she loves you very much. It went on for a while, all your friends and even your parents were there. Tears were falling down, and you didn't care it ruined your makeup. And then at the end there he was. My favourite face to see. Niall. '' Happiest birthday to you angel. I wish I could be there with you, just like we are always for our birthdays, but unfortunately I am not there to give you all the birthday hugs and wishes. I love you so much angel, keep rocking the world, and I will see you as soon as we can. '' At the end you were full on sobbing happy tears, hugging your manager and your band. The best surprise ever. '' I am very sorry for being a mess so publicly '' wiping your tears and thanking to whoever invented waterproof mascara for being the reason your makeup is not that ruined. '' Anyway, the show must go on, so let's go. '' picking up your acoustic guitar, adjusting it, you announce the song. ''You are in love. Let's go.''

''(...)

As the show is slowly coming to an end, and you're about to play a song that is about your boyfriend, that he inspired you to write. And Taylor helped you co-write it.

Morning, his place

Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt

He keeps his word

And for once, you let go

Of your fears and your ghosts

One step, not much

But it said enough

You kiss on side walks

You fight and you talk

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love. ''

'' Sadly, the show is slowly coming to an end. You guys were the absolute best and I adore spending my birthday with you all. This next song is literally one of the most accurate songs I've written about any of my relationship. When I got inspired by my loveliest boyfriend, I had to invite Taylor to help me write it, as we all know she is the lyrics master. Lover is one of my many nicknames I use for Niall, and I know that he's probably watching this or will watch it later, so hi Niall. '' you wave to one of the camera's while the crowd laughs. Gently, you start playing the guitar.

What you didn't know is that your boyfriend is a liar and is actually hiding with your assistant Jenna, waiting to come on the stage to surprise you. Of course, he wouldn't miss your birthday, even if he has to reschedule the concerts. You were absolutely worth it. As he waits for the part of the song he's gonna crash in, Jenna and Anna are making sure you don't accidentally notice Niall before time. The plan is for Anna to quickly distract you on one side while Niall comes out on the other side of the stage.

'' (...)

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Lover '' as you sing that part, you notice Anna waving at you like a maniac, distracting you and mouthing something to you. As you're trying to figure out what is she saying, the crowd starts screaming, and you freeze as the familiar voice starts to sing the next part of the song

''Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand...''

The song soon comes to an end, and you're bringing Niall into another hug. He just smiles and wraps his arms around your waist. '' Happy birthday, angel. I hope you don't mind me crashing. '' You just shake your head while holding him as close as you can. '' You are always welcome to crash my show. The next song is your song anyway, so you might as well stay and sing with me. '' he pulls away and looks at you. '' Let's go finish this show, so I can give you all the birthday kisses and hugs you want. ''

You turn around with your hand on your mouth, as the man himself makes his way towards you. You're in absolute shock because this man is supposed to be in America. He only laughs at your reaction as he pulls you towards him in a tight hug while still singing. Hugging him back, not wanting to let go of him. Slightly pulling away, looking him directly in his beautiful blue eyes while singing.

'' I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover ''

#niall horan #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan x you #niall horan x y/n #niall horan x reader #niall horan fanfic #niall horan x singer! reader #one direction #niall james horan #niall horan fluff

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Broken trust, pt.5

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four

Summary: Meeting at the fold, Aleksander has a choice to make and this time, his anger threatens his control.

Warnings: angst (my apologies), fluff sprinkled on top, indicating smut

a/n - This one is the last one before the finale, I’m sure this time.

========================

Darkness stood before her, utterly filled with terrors spoken of in every tale in Ravka. Y/N stared at the fold from a distance, remembering the first time she had seen it.��

It unnerved her in the past, the unknown playing with her imagination to fashion something much worse than reality. She was no fool, Y/N understood the gravity of what she wanted to execute. This fold had taken countless lives since its creation – her parents as well.

Exhaling loudly, she placed a hand over her chest as she closed her eyes. Whatever possessed Aleksander to create the fold couldn’t excuse the lives lost or the orphaned children who grew up the same way she did.

“Are you sure?” Mal’s voice is heavy, nearly pleading for her to give up her plan. She glances at him, not with uncertainty but with unwavering determination.

“I have to do this. You know this.”

Reaching for her hand, Mal’s fingers slip across her open palm, intertwining with her own. “It’s not too late to change your mind. This burden doesn’t have to be yours.”

A heavy sigh passes her lips, but it does nothing to relieve the true weight inside her chest. “I will never be free of it if we leave now.”

“Of him, you mean?” Mal frowns, his lips pressing in a thin line she wished she could turn into a smile. “You’ll never be free of him.”

“You could have been on that ship”, she reminds him, gently stroking his cheek. “If I wasn’t in that tent and I didn’t meet him, you’d have been on that ship with no survivors.”

Looking up at the sky, he sighs, “It would be better.” His eyes meet the surprise in hers, “I wouldn’t be sending you off into the darkness without any control over what will happen.”

“I’ll come back”, Y/N musses. “I always do”, she smiles softly, sniffling.

“You better!”

Slapping Mal’s arm, Y/N frowns, “I’m kind of insulted how little faith you have in me!”

Fingers running down her spine had caused shivers run throughout Y/N’s body. She chuckles, hiding her face in the crook of Aleksander’s neck.

“Don’t hide from me”, Aleksander complains. Trying to untangle himself in order to take control once more, his throaty chuckle furthers her need to cling to him.

Her arms wrap around him, pulling him closer as if he’s the air she needs to breathe. “I used to daydream about us.” Her small voice freezes him, his lips twitching with her confession.

“In what manner?”

Rolling to her side, Y/N glances at him only to shake her head. “It’s silly.”

Cupping her cheek, Aleksander leans in, close enough for their noses to touch. “Tell me.”

“I imagined how it would feel like to wake up and see your hair disheveled or how your lips would feel against mine”, her eyes flicker to his lips, causing her to lick her own. “Just about how I’d fall so hopelessly in love with you.”

“So you’re in love with me”, Aleksander raises an eyebrow, teasing her.

Wide eyed, Y/N blushed deeply with his heavy gaze upon her. He never blinks, never stammers or stumbles – Aleksander is a work of art and she couldn’t believe she blurted her feelings out for such perfection in a foolish daydream ramble.

“I wanted to tell you I love you without making a fool of myself, but that didn’t work”, she huffs, turning on her back. Staring at the ceiling, she wished she could hide now. A man as serious as Aleksander must find her so immature after her display of childish behavior, but she couldn’t face him.

Instead, he propped himself up on his elbow, his face obscuring her view of the ceiling. “I find it adorable”, he whispers almost wistfully and Y/N couldn’t understand why.

What is he longing for when she’s right there, under him? She didn’t miss the lack of a love proclamation on his behalf, but she could wait a while longer to hear him say it. After all, she’s the one he’s meant to be with.

“So you won’t run for the hills, screaming?” She kinked her eyebrows, beaming at his silent determination.

“Takes far more to frighten me, Sunshine. I’ll always be there for you.” He leans in, pecking her forehead. “For you”, he adds as his body presses her into the mattress. Staring intently in her eyes, his knee pushed her thighs apart. Resting his forehead on hers, Aleksander’s hand moved up her forearm until his fingers intertwined with hers, holding her hand tightly in his as he pushed inside her.

A moan escapes her, eyes closing as he whispers into her parted lips, “And inside you.”

Aleksander never wanted to leave his Sunshine. He wanted to spend the rest of eternity with her unraveling under him each and every night. He still loves her more than anyone else could. All he could think about is how it might need an eternity for him to make things right with her, because in time he believed she’ll see reason and understand he’s right.

But she fell in love with him as he is, temper and wicked plans and horrible notions of what love is. She knew that about him before she ever learned of who he is. She looked past everything he had done, Aleksander couldn’t figure out what’s so different about this.

“General”, Ivan stops at the entrance of his tent, out of breath. “Someone is spotted at the outskirts of the fold. The men believe they mean to enter the darkness on their own.”

Standing, Aleksander straightens his back. His eyes narrow and his jaw unclenches long enough for him to speak, “Who is it?”

“A woman and a man”, Ivan responds, swallowing thickly as he takes note of the general’s flared nostrils.

Forming fists, Aleksander lifts his chin. Despite the end of their relationship, Aleksander didn’t forget Y/N’s promise. He knew she’s brave, far braver than any Grisha he’d ever met. Aside from him, that is.

His Sunshine had a persisting quality about her, one he used to appreciate before. She would defy the devil himself if he stood in her way and it used to bring a smile to Aleksander’s lips. This time around, he and the fold are her devil.

“STOP THEM”, he orders. “She had never been in the fold before!”

His booming voice surprised even him, but it terrified Ivan who nodded and ran out as if he would cut him in half right then and there. To make matters worse, Aleksander wasn’t sure he wouldn’t.

Looking at his hands, he could have sworn he caught a tremble in a usually steady right hand. “What are you planning, Y/N?”

Fingers grazing Y/N’s, Aleksander felt a tingle run up his arm and to his heart. He always felt like shadows clouded any chance for happiness. Somehow, through it all, he saw where the shadow ends and there she stood. He trusted in her light, the one he could see even when she didn’t conjure it to the surface. She was Sunshine incarnated, his saving grace.

“I’ll never be strong enough”, she croaks, turning away from Aleksander.

With a frown etched on her forehead, Y/N swallowed thickly. She didn’t expect Aleksander to slide a finger under her chin, tipping her face up to his. He smiles, the gesture lighting up his eyes, enough to lock her breath in her throat.

She wondered how many were as lucky as she is to see those dark skies hang stars to lead them out of a storm.

She hoped none did. Selfishly, she hoped to be the only one who knows how gentle, how kind the Darkling can be.

“You make me proud, you know that?” His words are honey, his lips set in a genuine grin as he brushes his nose against hers. “You are the strongest person I know.”

Biting her lower lip, she looks into his eyes briefly, but long enough to know he won’t judge her.

“Could you hold my hand?”

He had all the understanding she sought in his dark hues, a tenderness she always prayed to find in someone. There was no doubt in her mind she could trust Aleksander.

As his hand embraces her smaller one, she can’t help but look up at him with a look he wasn’t used to.

She looked at him with hope, with expectations of something he wasn’t sure he’d be able to rise to, but he was determined to try.

“Can you tell me more about you?” It felt vastly important to see the change in every line of his handsome face as he remembered the past and she didn’t want to miss a single word, expression or look he could bestow upon her. He felt more important to her than anyone and this wasn’t just a story, it was his story.

If he were honest with her then, Y/N knew she’d have forgiven him. There was no shadow of doubt about it as she stared at the fold mere inches before her. She could see what true darkness is and she never saw it in Aleksander. That’s when the guilt appears, taunting her. If she stayed with him, could she have managed to change his mind about it all without ever spending a day without him? She still missed him far too much, more than she should.

“Stop!”

Looking over her shoulder, she flashes an uncertain smile that disappears just as quickly it came to be, fading to give way for her tear-filled eyes to glisten like stars in the moonlight. She should be angry, she should be running away from him, yet the sight of Aleksander riding toward her only rooted her.

“You can’t stop me”, she remarked, her eyes brimming with tears as he frowned, his forehead forming a few worry lines she’d normally tease him about because their age difference is so vast despite him looking so young, but she reveled in knowing he actually cares enough to worry about her.

Unless it wasn’t worry for her, rather the fold.

“You can’t possibly do this, Y/N! Even if I wanted to help you destroy the fold, I’d never send you in so soon with so few preparations!” He smiles, but the gesture is empty, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’ll fail.”

"If you really thought I couldn't do this, you wouldn't be trying so hard to stop me", she snapped, "to distract me!"

For one instant, she feared she’d gone too far. There was something, a flash in his eyes, an expression that flitted over his face that locked her breath in her throat. But then he relaxed, not completely, but much of his frightening tension - battle-ready tension - seemed to flow out of him.

"I'm trying to stop you because you're going to kill yourself trying", he replied. "You begged me to let you go and I did, but look at you now.” His frown deepens, “You’re standing at the edge of certain doom and you have no one to guide you."

“So guide me!” Lifting her chin, she struggled to draw breath and forced herself to shrug as she looked away. “You said you'd always be there for me, with me”, she pauses as she remembers he also promised to be inside her. And he was right, he’s inside her, just not in a pleasurable way. He courses through her veins like a disease, an infection she can’t eradicate. ”So how did this happen? Why weren't you here?”

She wanted him to say something – anything. She wanted him to fight for her, to say he couldn’t imagine life without her and to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness which she’d give…even after everything, she’d give him the forgiveness and love he seeks.

The way her tears fell had grabbed onto his heart and squeezed it tight, those drops of salt filled with emotion had reached him too, tearing through him unforgivably.

“If you go in there, I’ll have no choice but to hurt you.” His voice is shaky, his resolution weaker than the words he’s using. “Don’t put me in this position.”

“So you really think I can’t read you? That I don’t know when you’re lying to me?” A meek smile appears on her dry lips, “Didn’t you promise me you’d never lie to me again? Never to hurt me?”

“Y/N”, Aleksander raises his voice as a warning, yet her smile refuses to falter as her eyes hold his gaze captive.

Her lips part, her mind screaming with every step she takes backwards toward the fold, yet she never felt more at peace. She didn’t know what is stronger – her need to run and save her heart from heartbreak by staying in his arms forever, or her determination to destroy the fold. Yet with every step, she’s more convinced that both those needs are one of the same.

“Don’t”, he holds out his hand once she turns away from him, a step away from the fold he created.

Looking over her shoulder, she knew there was no choice at all. The need to save herself from heartbreak and the need to destroy the fold both require her to save Aleksander from himself.

Pushing his hair back, he dismounted, taking a few steps closer to her.

“Come on, love. Draw your invisible swords. Stop me”, she challenged, seeing the anger she evoked once his shadows began pouring from around him.

He ignored her words as he advanced, his dark eyes growing darker. He bent over her, took her defiant chin in his hand. She tried to pull away but he held her fast. He kissed her, roughly at first but then his grip and kiss became gentle, deep – a proper lover’s kiss.

Y/N felt herself drifting. The pleasure of his hand on her cheek, his kiss, it weakened her resolve. He pulled away from her and looked deep into her eyes, the warm and glowing fire behind them setting his own light ablaze. All thoughts of hatred were gone from them, yet his darkness surrounded them slowly.

Narrowing her eyes, Y/N stumbles back. “No. No”; she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her lips quivering. “You can’t just kiss me and make it alright.”

“You’re my weakness”, Aleksander admits, “the one thing I lack power against. Whether it’s loving you when you’re near and driving me absolutely mad or feeding your memory after you were gone. Letting you go was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.” He narrows his eyes at her with a simmering anger burning in them, “It’s just not in me to do nothing and let you slip away again.”

Scoffing, Y/N stands her ground, “We could have made it work. If you loved me, you'd have fought for me. You'd have listened to me and abandoned the foolish notion of power you seek. But you didn't, which means I loved you more than you loved me.”

"I FOUGHT FOR YOU! You didn't let me win. What was I supposed to do, huh? Force your hand and drag you to Little palace by the hair?” Gripping her arm, Aleksander pulled her closer, her hand resting on his chest with her palm open toward his heart. She’s not a heartrender, but her touch does possess the ability to make his heart explode.

“Should I have taken you by the throat until you submitted?” He speaks lowly, his voice darker than she had ever heard it before. “Did you expect I'd want to see your hatred for me every single day if I made you stay? Tell me, WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!"

Swallowing thickly, she was rendered speechless. She didn’t know what to say without provoking him further. A part of her wondered if she should fear him, if he would kill her if it came to it.

“I fucking need you more than I need to breathe.” He says through gritted teeth only to release her from his bruising grip. If she was anyone else, she’d be a corpse by now. He knew it, but so did his people. Soon enough, they’ll lose respect for him. People will stop fearing him if he keeps allowing her to defy him.

"You make them all think you're a heartless murderer, but you're not. I know you're better than that." Her voice is raspy and devastatingly painful. Y/N takes a few steps back, her eyes no longer holding back tears as they spill down her cheeks.

His heart is desperately flailing inside his chest as her grief overcomes her features and he can’t touch her again, he can’t make it go away. Time and time again, he’s the cause instead of being her cure.

In her pain she sees him as the bad guy, yet in truth he’s drowning in a sea of uncried tears too.

When you hurt a woman you love, most of them can’t even look at you, not even turn to you. But what does a man do when the woman he hurt, the woman he loves most in the world, stares right into his soul as he shatters her completely?

What can a man do when her teary eyes hold his with such bravery, such complexity as she crumbles and he has to bear witness? When he’s the perpetrator and sole witness of her fears and sorrow?

There isn’t a single thing in this world that breaks like a heart does, Aleksander knew that now for in this silent exchange between their souls, the silence has never been so deafening.

"But I am a murderer." His jaw clenches as he raises his chin, “If you take another step, I will prove it to you.”

Eyes narrowing, Y/N nods to herself. Averting her gaze, she pursed her lips before turning around so quickly Aleksander didn’t have time to react.

She held her breath once she entered the fold, moving left on instinct.

Covering her mouth, she looks up at the thundering clouds that seem to be the only light in the fold. Merely seconds after she moved, a knife like substance crossed into the fold, slicing the air where she once stood and a gasp escaped her.

She looks back, finding no trace of Aleksander, but she wasn’t a fool – that was meant to be his gift to her for defying him.

Swallowing thickly, she shakes her head at the devastating thought. Is he past saving? Would he truly kill her?

Part 6/finale

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #shadow and bone #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #aleksander x reader

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pigeonp0st · 3 years

Note

you did NOT say “hey send more wanda requests!” but here i am... sending you one jejeje :) how about cute fluffy red eyed jealous wanda? she just wants to hang with reader but EVERY! AVENGER! ALSO! DOES!

Wanda Maximoff x Reader #2

Words: 1,970

Warnings: Jealousy, Cursing

Notes:

Thank you for requesting, and by the way: I appreciate all of the Wanda requests so...hey! Send more Wanda requests. Oh, and this was written during a writers block so it’s not the best but I hope it’s good enough ;( Sorry for spelling mistakes.

————

There are moments during Wanda’s life where she is jealous, believe it or not. No, it doesn’t happen very often anymore; because really she has nothing to long for that she doesn’t already have.

But it happens… So despite her unwillingness to admit it, she’s currently experiencing one of her not so often bouts of jealousy—and it feels like such an ugly word, but it’s how she feels because everyone really just loves you, and she just wants you for herself.

and yeah, okay, someone could make the argument that she ‘has’ you already, and she feels that way, but she knows she doesn’t. Logically.

You could completely decide that you don’t want to be with her anymore, Wanda knows, and if that were something you wanted she wouldn’t even think about stopping you.

She’s not that type of jealous though. She’s not concerned you’ll leave her for someone else, despite how close you and Steve get while you’re discussing something, and despite how many times you fall asleep with Thor on the couch, despite how many times Tony seems to be looking for you, she doesn’t necessarily care about any of it.

As a matter of fact, Wanda would say that she loves the way everyone loves you. She loves how close you are with them...she just wishes it didn’t have to mean so little time for her.

So she’ll train with Clint and watch from the corner of her eye as you train with Natasha, and she’s not jealous about the way that you laugh with her, or the way that she smiles at you, or the way that Natasha pulls you until your faces are inches— okay she really didn’t need to fucking pull you so close-

“Y/N,” Wanda calls, absentmindedly throwing Clint into the cushioned wall with her powers. You don’t pay attention to her, much to Wanda’s dismay, instead you smirk at Natasha and she smirks at you— and really Wanda’s about a second away from throwing Natasha into the wall too— but then Nat headbutts you with just enough force that you’re winded by it, and completely and utterly finishes the fight.

Wanda stops her advancements towards you and starts clapping her hands, feeling utterly ridiculous but hiding it well.

From the way Natasha tilts her head at her perhaps she isn’t hiding it well enough.

You still don’t turn around to notice her though because now you’re locked into conversation with Bruce. And Okay.

She’s able to admit to herself now, that yeah, sometimes her jealousy comes from fear rather than want, but it’s only because anyone would feel threatened by Natasha.

She is also able to admit to herself that this is...harder for her than she previously thought.

————

This continues for a while longer. Wanda looks at you hanging out with the others, tries to get your intention, and gets utterly ignored.

She knows you aren’t doing it on purpose, but it hurts enough that whenever you, or the person you’re hanging out with ignore her she sighs and completely leaves the room.

She waits for you to look for her like she looks for you, she waits for you to be alone, but you never do, and you never are.

It hurts in a way it probably shouldn’t.

———-

Wanda has been pouty lately.

When you ask about it she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest like a disobedient five year old. It’s both amusing and concerning.

Concerning because she’s obviously upset about something, and amusing because she has the cutest pout, and the most dramatic flair about her.

You won’t be dropping this though. “Wan Wan-”

“Okay,” Wanda grimances immediately, “please never call me that again.” She looks horrified when she says it, and your amusement only goes up. Until you see the red glow in her eyes and remember that her powers have been showing the whole day.

This can’t go on.

“Wanda, did I do something wrong?” You ask, clearing your throat in an attempt to start the conversation over.

Wanda momentarily stops glaring at the table so she can glance at you. When she does she seems to sag into her seat at the worried look on your face. This isn’t your fault, she reminds herself, angry that she let her own stupidity affect you. “No,” Wanda sighs, her jaw clenching and unclenching. “No, draga, you haven’t.”

Darling, you remember. That’s what ‘draga’ means. Despite circumstances the term of endearment fills you with butterflies. “Then what’s wrong?”

This time when you ask Wanda answers, looking sheepish and guilty. “I...Y/N I want to spend time with you. Is that…” she pauses, feeling frustrated beyond belief, “is that okay?”

You’re...confused, to say the least. You don’t understand why Wanda would think it isn’t, she’s your girlfriend, you love spending time with her. You had thought that you were already spending time with her before.

“Wanda,” you stutter, eyes wide at the sudden tears in her eyes. When she tries to look away you put a hand on her cheek and force her glowing red eyes to meet yours. “Hey, hey, Wanda—baby—of course it is.”

It’s more than okay.

Wanda nods, looking just as shocked by her tears as you are. “I have no idea why i’m crying,” she says shakily, rubbing her eyes. “I don’t know why...I” Wanda pauses, letting out an angry defeated growl, “just- god, I...i’m just so frustrated.”

And she is, she really is. Wanda hadn’t realized how much this has been affecting her. She’s just angry at herself for needing you so much, and angry at the others for taking you away from her all the time, and then angry at herself again for being angry at the others just for wanting to be with you— she’s just angry. And it’s so exhausting.

But you aren’t. You’re the only thing in this life, to Wanda, that isn’t. It means everything, that’s why she needs you. Not all the time. Just sometimes at least.

You, little does Wanda know, need her around just as much, and more than that you need her to be okay, and she isn’t right now. Wanda looks so devastated and helpless, so helpless, that you’re hugging her before you can even register it, like your body moved on it’s own accord.

“Wanda,” you ask, concerned, “do you feel like i’m not already spending a lot of time with you? I mean...we sleep in the same bed.” Wanda hugs you so tightly though, that you wonder if you’ve been imagining the moments you two have spent together.

“No, no you have been,” she says sadly, and with a resignation in her voice that you don’t understand. “I guess...with all of the loss that’s surrounded me, and with the way I still try to distance myself from the others, I'm just really alone without you.”

You freeze completely, hit with an unbearable amount of sadness for the women you love.

Wanda pulls away from you when you tense, looking frantic because she worded that wrong, she hadn’t meant it to sound like she was guilt tripping you. “Obviously it’s not your responsibility to hang out with me all the time, I want you to hang out with your friends, it’s just...I mean...they do get to do stupid mundane things with you more...and I mean I want that too, but only if—”

You put a hand over her mouth, silencing her immediately. “Baby, slow down. Breathe. You’re gonna die if you don’t.”

“Okay…” you start when you realize Wanda has done what you asked and calmed down as much as she’s going to be able to right now, “no, you’re right, now that I think about it. Lately the others have been asking for me a lot and we only ever get a chance to watch a movie at night...we hardly see each other besides that.”

As you say it you’re shocked to find out how true it is. You’ve been so busy with your project with Tony, and training with Natasha, and Thor has been so sad lately that you’ve been trying to help him— and Clint with his sudden want to start cooking, and Peter with his girl problems, and—

And you hadn’t really taken a moment to realize that you miss Wanda too, you haven’t had the time to realize it while you were shuffling around the compound, but Wanda has had time. She’s had all the time in the world.

“Hey,” Wanda says when she notices the guilt on your face, “none of that.”

So you tackle her. Naturally. You tackle her because you love her, and she’s too sad. She looks too sad, she’s always too sad, and she never deserves to feel that way.

Wanda lets out a loud; ‘oof’ and falls back against the couch with you on top of her burying your face in her neck.

She doesn’t understand at all what’s going on, but she’s willing to give you what you want...until you start making weird noises.

“Rummmmm, tssssssss, weeeeeee.”

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks, legitimately concerned.

“Shhh, babe, i’m charging us up. Weeeee-”

“Okay,” Wanda laughs, pushing you off of her. When you yelp and nearly fall off the couch she catches you with her powers and gently lowers you on the ground.

You glare at her the whole way down, a humorous gleam in your eyes. “I’m trying to help babe, what the fuck.”

Wanda simply rolls her eyes at you, releasing another breathy laugh that has your features soften immediately.

“There it is,” you whisper quietly, reaching up to cup her cheek. Wanda smiles into your palm. “I’m sorry, Wanda. I’m realizing that I've missed you desperately too, so we’ll definitely have to make up for the time we weren’t together.”

“You don’t have to,” Wanda sighs, looking down.

“I want to,” you assure, because you do want to. You hadn’t noticed the ache in your heart until it was pointed out to you, but now that it has been...you just want to spend time with Wanda. But…

“But I want you to have other people as well,” you say quietly, “Do you think you could start opening up to the others? They really love you.”

Wanda studies your eyes, thinking. “I have been open with them.”

“You treat them like comrades more than family, even though they obviously love you more than that, and even though you do too.”

It’s something you’ve noticed. Wanda will protect everyone, and be there for them, and she’ll confide in them when necessary, but she’ll also avoid them, and avoid talking with them.

“Okay, I will try.”

The relief you feel at those four words is indescribable. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation with Wanda, and the fact that she’s finally ready to listen fills you with joy that has you jumping back into her arms and smothering her with kisses.

“Hey,” Wanda protests, but she’s laughing, “I'll have to take it slow. Maybe i’ll start by finally coming to their movie nights”

“Sounds perfect,” you grin. And it does. Wanda hides in her room during those nights, but now she can be your game night partner. “Oh!” You yelp, jumping off her lap, “we should start training now. No one’s been able to beat Natasha at scramble but if we start training now by Friday we’ll be able to take her down.”

“I really am going to regret this,” Wanda sighs.

“It’s only two all-nighters, don’t be dramatic.”

“WHAT? I am not staying up all night.”

“We’ll see about that.” You whisper under your breath. You don’t think Wanda hears until she throws a couch pillow at your face.

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starconsumer444 · 3 years

Text

You're Gonna Carry That Weight

Suna Rintarou

A/N: I've been "sad" lately so I'm projecting here lol. I don't usually write angst, but...

(Tw/Cw: Suicidal thoughts, Depression, Depressed Suna, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Reader is Gender Neutral)

It's three in the morning and Suna has a share-size bottle in his hand. It’s half gone and he’s watching television alone on the couch of your shared living room. It’s almost pitch black save for the illumination of the screen in front of him.

He looks run-down from where you stand, in the hallway, around a corner where he can’t see you peeking out at him. His hair is messy, and a single stray tear makes its way down his cheek before he wipes it away, with no rush in his movements.

“Suna?” You step from behind the wall.

His eyes are immediately on you. None of his features are clear in the dull light, but you can tell he’s looking at you.

“Can I join you?” Your soft request sits in the air for a moment until he nods silently.

He’s gotten quieter over the last month. A lot has changed with him recently. You won't bring it up until the sun is out. For now, you simply join him on the couch. He passes the bottle to you, either asking you to take it away from him or offering you some of the alcohol inside it. You just take it and place it on your side, where he can’t reach it, at least not with the minimal effort he’s putting into controlling his movements.

For about half an hour you sit in your first uncomfortable silence with your love, Suna. For the first time, you are scared of what the silence could mean and your heart aches with every passing moment and every silent breath. This is the furthest you've ever felt from him. You just wish you could read his mind and know. You want to know what's going on below the blank expressions, fleeting smiles, and dazed stares. He’s been so on edge for the past couple of months and you thought he’d open up one day on his own, but he hasn’t. Everything has only worsened with the time and space you’ve given him.

By the end of whatever Cowboy Bebop episode you’re watching Sunas asleep on the arm of the couch while the outro music plays. He looks at peace. You get a throw blanket and toss it over him before going back to bed.

You wake up again at seven, while he sleeps until noon. You’ve decided for him that he’s not going to practice today.

He wakes up and comes into the bedroom, swinging the door open, “Why didn’t you wake me up? I have work today.” He says as he rummages through the drawers looking for things he needs to get ready.

“You need a day off, Suna.”

He freezes and then closes the drawer. He turns to look at you and there’s a clear brewing frustration, “I can’t just take random days off.” He’s not yelling but he’s stern. “I need to practice.”

“You can have a day off,” You come back equally stern. “Now come sit down with me.” You pat the space on top of the comforter next to you.

He grunts, but relents. He’s in no place for an argument right now.

When he joins you, you look at him closely and he watches you with tired, bag-carrying eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

The question strikes through his heart like a knife, but he’s not dying.

The only answer he gives is simple, “I don’t know.”

He truly doesn’t know or… he doesn’t have words for it at this moment. It’s like one day his world started slipping through his fingers again. One day he was fine, but the next, the medication wasn’t working and he was forcing himself to go through the motions of living. Trying became hard, volleyball became hell, and he just wanted to be alone.

But, how does he tell you, the one he loves, this? How does he open his mouth to tell you that he feels like dying and there’s no way to stop this? Why is it so hard to say something?

When he tells you that he doesn’t know, he knows you’re not taking it as an answer when you frown at him without a word and wait for something else.

“I stopped-” He looks down and grips the comforter between his fingers, “I stopped taking my meds.” Even through his peripheral, he can see you cock your head in disappointment, so he rushes to defend himself even though you’ve said nothing, “They stopped working, okay? Those thoughts came back and I saw no use for them anymore. I just stopped taking them”

“But-”

“No.” He cuts you off.

“I waited every-single-day for them to start working!” You watch as a single tear rolls down his cheek and falls onto his lap.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he releases the comforter from his death grip and rubs his sweaty palms against pajama bottoms. “I’m trying so hard to be okay.” His voice is starting to break and the lump in his throat is becoming more and more painful by the second. “I do everything to fix this. I go to therapy. I take pills. I try to keep myself busy, but it never ends.” He softens. His eyes have become faucets of sadness and he doesn’t bother wiping them or even looking at you. He feels as raw as a picked scab. “I cannot find reasons to live in anything I do and I feel like I don’t deserve to be alive.” He feels you rub your hand up and down his back and it does little to comfort him.

“I- I’m trying so hard to make this work. I didn’t want to let you down, because I love you an-and I don’t want you to see me like this, but I kept getting mad at you and being mean. I’m sorry.” He sniffles and a shiver wracks his body. He looks at you and hopes you won't judge him for his emotional pitfalls.

His eyes are puffy and red, tears streaks are going down his cheeks, and his hair is disheveled. He sniffles and waits for your forgiveness.

You pull his distraught figure into a hug and for a moment you can’t do anything but appreciate his warmth; thank god he’s warm. “It’s okay.”

He melts into your arms and puts his head on your shoulder, “I love you.” It’s broken and barely there.

“I love you too.” You stroke his hair.

Not once has he felt deserving love, especially not yours. Now he doesn’t feel deserving of your forgiveness either. Still, in this moment of being held, he accepts it.

The lump in his throat dissolves and his tears start to dry up, “I’m sorry I’m like this.”

He feels you shake your head, “Nothing to be sorry about.”

He can’t help but think about how he’s a burden to you. Your life would be so much easier without him in it, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to stop bringing you into his misery and let you go.

“We’ll get through this together,” You say. You don’t know what that encompasses and he doesn't want you to find out. You feel Suna nod.

For a moment, it feels like you are the only two living things in the universe.

#suna x you #haikyuu!!#haikyuu suna #suna rintaro imagine #suna angst #suna scenarios #suna rintarou #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #haikyuu scenarios #hurt/comfort #im sorry yall #I don't feel good #yes #the title is a cowboy bebop refrence

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stephspurs · 3 years

Text

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Wow - the response i received in a little under 24 hours since i posted the first taste of part 1 has truly bowled me over! I wasn't expecting that reaction & tbh i would have been happy if 2 people wanted to read this story hahaha! So, i've been writing in the background & the first few parts have already been proofed and are ready to go. HOWEVER! I am open to your suggestions so please please let me know what you think and how you want to see Amelia's story play out. As far as i'm concerned, this fic is as much yours as it is mine! So please enjoy this first part, in its entirety, and let me know your thoughts! Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 1 | prima parte

warnings; none - maybe a bit of angst? (what sibling rivalry doesn't have a bit of angst)

word count; 1978 words

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Sunday 25/07 5pm AEST. Updates will be twice weekly at this stage. Probably Wednesday’s and Sundays from next week!!

link to fic masterlist here

The world of football, no matter how big it may seem, is as tight as a close-knit family. Whether its management staff, senior players, scouts, academy players, business developers, medical team, groundskeeper - everyone knows someone who knows someone else involved in the sport. For Amelia White, it was a family affair.

Having grown up with her father as a senior tactical analyst for many different clubs throughout his career, and an older brother currently playing for Brighton in the Premier League, there was no opportunity for her to escape the fanaticism of the sport. It was what her household lived and breathed, football. Most would think that, with her brother being as successful as he is now, her childhood was shadowed by her brother's success but that's not the case. She capitalised on her ability to think both logically and creatively, and absorbed all of the information her father could give her as if she was a sponge, to establish a name of her own in the sport and advance her career in the sport. At the age of 21 she upped and left the comforts of her home in West London, accepted a position at Juventus within their graduate program & worked her way up the ranks to be their youngest tactical analyst by the age of 24.

So far in her career, the support of her mother, father & brother were unmatched by any. They were all so proud of her for making her own name, proving herself and succeeding in one of the most competitive football leagues in the world. She was smart, tactful, both meticulous and ruthless in her approach to her career and the success of her players. Because after all, they were her players. She worked day in and day out, studying them and their opponents, drafting performance plans and set pieces for every possible outcome of the play, so that they could perform at their best. They had her trust and faith, and she had theirs. This is probably what her family was most proud of, and wished her every success, until she was appointed as a tactical analyst for the Italian National Team for the upcoming Euro 2020 tournament. Which happened to be the same tournament that her brother had received his call up to the Three Lions. Which was the current level at which her father was a senior tactical analyst for the English National Team. The Euro 2020 Tournament was about to be a real family affair...

10 July 2021

It had been 2 months since she last had any contact with her family. 3 months ago, Amelia signed a contract with the Federcalcio, the governing body of football in Italy, to become the Azzurri’s tactical analyst for the foreseeable European Football Championship. In turn, her silky signature at the bottom of the agreement, also constituted a digital and physical contact ban with members of her family that were also involved with the tournament...her father and her brother.

At the time of the contract, and against her better judgement, Amelia hadn’t told her family of her opportunity. She knew her father would be proud, but her brother would be bitter. Her mother was switzerland, completely neutral and rooting for both of her children - but that's not how football works. No matter your role you have a job to do, and you do everything you can to make sure it is your team that lifts the trophy at the end of the tournament. So, on May 23rd her family congratulated her for another successful season at Juventus, and unbeknownst to them, said goodbye for the next 2 months. Until the day before the final match of the tournament, Italy v. England.

Her heart dropped when England won their semi final match against Denmark. She wanted nothing more than for her brother to be happy and for her father to succeed, but she didn’t want to have to go up against them in the final. Ultimately, she knew they were good, but she also knew that she could hold her own and compete with the best. Having a close relationship with her brother, up until this period, meant that she often paid attention to the premier league. This was a major benefit to her as she had already started analysing the azzurri’s opponents. It was her job to know what foot Raheem Sterling preferred to pass with, what direction Declan Rice preferred to take the ball up the field, what direction of receiving the ball did Harry Maguire struggle the most with. So that's how she spent the three days between matches, solidifying her knowledge of her opponents & predicting the plays her dad would be instructing the English team to complete, to attempt to outperform the Italians. However nothing would prepare her for the knock on her suite door, or for what was on the other side…

_____________________________________________________________

“Ciao Amelia, vieni con me per favore. abbiamo organizzato una visita supervisionata con tuo fratello prima della finale di domani sera. sorpresa!” (hi amelia, come with me please. we have arranged a supervised visit with your brother prior to the final tomorrow night. surprise!). I stood there in shock staring at one of my players & closest friends, Federico Bernardeschi. I was a person who didn't enjoy spontaneity, who thrived off of preparation and organisation. I needed the opportunity to overthink every situation so that I could prepare for every possible outcome. This was not my idea of a good time. Of course I missed my brother, but I know just how volatile he can be. Nevertheless, I grabbed my jacket and shoved my sneakers on before following Fede down the hall and into a blacked out van that was waiting to take me to St. George’s Park for my family reunion.

Upon arriving, and after a stern pep talk from Fede (who was my appointed supervisor for the visit - not sure I would say he was the most responsible choice but he did talk some sense into me) I walked into the main entrance and saw my father leaning against the reception desk waiting for me.

“Papa!!” I called as I walked over to him, ready to smother him with my love and affection. My father, Dean White, and I had as good of a relationship as possible, being that he was always heavily involved with my brother Ben’s footballing career as well as his own. I think when I came along, my father didn't know how to be a girl dad, so he took my mothers advice and just involved me like he would Ben. I was glad that I would be seeing him first, and he would be taking me to see my no-doubt pissed off brother.

“Dad, this is Fede, one of my players”

“Ciao Dean, it’s very nice to meet you but i am also her bodyguard for this evening” Fede introduced himself to my father and they exchanged pleasantries. I had a look around the foyer of the facility until I heard my name brought up in conversation.

“Amelia, come on. The boys are just over here. I don’t think you have long before heading back to your camp” My dad called to me. Boys? As in...more than just my brother?

“Hahaha that's funny dad, just show me to his room and we can have our screaming match there. Should only be about 20 or so minutes”

“Ben’s not in his room, we have a recreation room for the players and staff to lounge about and relax in. Pretty sure he’ll be in there. Come on, you’ve never been scared of your brother before. Why start now?” Before I knew it, Dad was leading us through some doors and into a large common area with bean bags, pool tables and couches - all occupied by current first team members of the English National Football team.

“Dean mate, don’t normally see you down here after 7pm. Oh look at that, someone let the trash in.” A loud mouthed player, that I used to adore as if he was my own brother, calls out as he notices us enter the room. And just like that, I shake off my nerves, stand in front of my taller & more argumentative bodyguard, relax my shoulders and stare into the eyes of Kyle Walker - daring him to challenge me and push me further.

“Relax Kyle, Benjamin White - your sister is here to see you.” Dad cut Kyle off. I didn’t need him to defend me against Kyle’s harsh comments, I could defend myself.

“Wow, I thought hell would freeze over before I got the opportunity to speak to you. Of course, I didn't realise hell would look quite like seeing you in that shade of blue.” My brother, Ben, spoke bitterly at me as he approached me from the other side of the room. This, coupled with Walker’s exclamation earlier, got the attention of the majority of the players scattered about.

“Ben, if you let me explain in private I'm sure you will be able to understand why things had to be this way” I tried to reason with him. Letting go of my always-defensive guard and pleading with my big brother to open his mind to see my side of the story.

“As if I would even talk to you right now, the night before the final, you’re probably here to try and get some insider information. Boys make sure you don’t say anything to her, she’s as sly as they come” Ben’s words were as sharp as a knife - but I knew what I had to say would cut him deeper.

“Ok that's enough! You are ridiculous! What did you expect me to do? Not take the job because you’re my brother? This is my career we are talking about here” I challenged him. “If you think for one second i stopped supporting you then you must be even more stupid than i thought. Of course this isn't the ideal situation, I'm proud of you for reaching a final but I'm just as proud of myself for doing the same thing.” I got progressively closer to my brother, who stood there with his hands beside himself, unable to get a word in.

“I came tonight to wish you good luck, to tell you I loved you, to give you a hug and tell you to stay safe and play smart. Whilst I still wish all of this for you, I now want you to know that I want you to play your best so I can be better than you. I can show you exactly how good at my job I am. I want you to know that no matter what way you play the ball, I'll be right there waiting for you. I am prepared for this, I hope you are too - so that it will feel that much more sweet when we beat you” I sneered at my older brother, who at this point, is quite visibly feeling a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

I take a step back, let out a breath and shake the tension from my shoulders. Breaking eye contact with my brother, I look briefly - yet confidently - at the other players in the room and take a step back. I turned to my dad, who was looking at me solemnly, as though he wasn’t happy with my outburst but understood it came from a place of frustration with my sibling. Walking up, giving him a kiss on the cheek and wishing him luck, I turned to look at Fede and began to walk to the door. This interaction with my brother, although supposed to be a nice moment shared between siblings, has only gone and motivated me to be at my best tomorrow, to prepare my players to go to war and to come out the other side victorious.

Part 2 | seconda parte

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genevievemd · 2 years

Note

1 for love confessions is giving off OH2 chapter 11 vibes 😢

Whispers

Book: Open Heart: Second Year (post ch 12) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 650 Rating: G Category: fluff Trope(s): and there was a confession, and they realize they’re in love

Summary: Gen is staying with Ethan after the attack, and it causes him to realize the true depth of his feelings for her.

Warnings: none

A/N: I know you said 2.11, but I went with 2.12 instead. Hope that’s okay.

From Love Confessiolns Prompt List. Prompt in bold - Also all prompts from this list will have the same banner, like below, with the prompt on it but different fic titles. It’s like a mini series lol

The rain hasn’t let up since the funeral four days ago, the skies only offering a few respites before another storm appears and the rain begins to drown the city once more.

Ethan watches the newest squall from the large windows in his living room, silently wishing that the weather could wash away the pain that the woman in his bed currently feels.

Genevieve has been with him, hiding out in his apartment, since that night in his car; when his offer to drive her home turned into something more. He was more than happy to offer her shelter, and truth be told, it’s helping him, too. The thought of having to part with her that night, have her be out of his sight, was agonizing. Crippling. No matter how many times he told himself she was safe, he could never quite believe it. The nightmares of the attack lingering for far longer than Ethan thought they would. But, that comes with the territory of having someone you care a great deal for in danger.

Although, this fear, goes much deeper than the terror Ethan had felt with Naveen. And it was because Genevieve mattered far more than Ethan was willing to accept.

He takes a deep breath, tearing his troubled gaze away from the windows and heading towards his bedroom. Gen is still sound asleep, wrapped in his sheets like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

She looks as though she’s always belonged there, just as she has in every other corner of his home. Like his dark and empty space was waiting for her natural radiance to brighten the corners and mend the cracks.

Like she did with his heart. Somehow healing his wounds without him even noticing. Only realizing it when faced with the possibility of losing her forever.

The only true comfort of that day, and the days since, was learning Genevieve feels the same intense longing that he’s felt for her. Even if Ethan wasn’t completely honest with her.

He watches her breath for a few more seconds before settling back into the bed. Placing a gentle kiss to her head, smiling like a fool when he realizes she’d used his shampoo and body wash in the shower in the shower instead of her own.

“Gen?” He whispers into the dark, counting to ten to see if she awakens before continuing.

“I keep thinking about that night, when we were discussing our regrets. I told you that I care for you, but that isn’t the whole truth, Rookie. I gave you the half truth, because I’m a damn coward when it comes to you, but…”

He takes a deep breath, cataloging every detail of her face. Remind himself, once again, that she won’t suddenly disappear on him.

“My feelings for you, G, they go so far past care. And they have for a long time. The truth is that… I’m falling in love with you and that both terrifies and thrills me. I’ve reached the point where it’s nearly impossible to picture my life without you in it, and when I do it’s… it’s not something I ever want to become reality.”

The pounding of his heart is the only thing he can hear, swallowing back every thought he has of running. Because he no longer wants to go back, only forward.

“I couldn’t live with myself, if I didn’t tell you. I just hope that someday, soon, I can tell you while you’re not asleep.”

She stirs at that, and for a few panicked seconds Ethan freezes, but all Genevieve does is turn around, burrow into his chest with a sleepy, yet content, sigh.

The action makes his heart beat even faster, the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Ethan smiles softly, kissing her head and wrapping her in his arms. Knowing he’ll dream of her, and the future he’s finally ready to have with her.

A/N: Short and sweet. And I will never get off the hill that G stayed with Ethan after the attack. I’ll die on this hill.

(Tagging separately)

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan x gen #asked and answered #potionsprefect #🐑🐑🐑

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jellyluchi · 3 years

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La Squadra x Reader going on a picnic together

A/N: Sometime last year I wanted to see this exact scenario and requested it to some blog because I was too insecure about my own writing / characterization to write it myself. But with my recent inspiration and motivation I thought I should give it a try. I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: none Genre: fluff

Sorbet & Gelato:

They are actually very frequent picnic goers. It's a relaxing stress relief from their job and both of them are much too domestic not to participate in an activity that allows them to both cook and be in your presence. Gelato, especially, gets excited for picnic days. He loves the perfect windy weather and delicious food that Sorbet makes while you help. nothing makes his domestic senses tingle than seeing you with a basket in hand, ready to set up the blanket in an Italian countryside landscape. They prefer the solitude over a park. Sorbet loves enjoying the simplicities in life, which includes hand feeding you both snacks while Gelato chatters on about how lovely it all is. And, of course, they're always up for cuddling on the dew covered grass where Gelato loves rolling around while hugging you, just for fun

Risotto:

In truth, this man has always wanted to enjoy a good picnic. However, because of is lack of a significant other, he didn't feel the need to go just by himself. You bring a lot of motivation into his life, motivation to cook for you, take care of you, protect you and so on. When you brought up he idea, he already started thinking of what food to pack and where to go. He thought of the perfect spot before you could bring it up and truly, it's a beautiful site, a lake near his old home in South Italy. It's quite a long drive but he enjoys every minute as you sing along to your favorite songs in the car. He had the idea to bring a music player so both of you could dance in the meadow with nothing to interrupt you.

Prosciutto:

Being domestically inclined, you would think Prosciutto would bring up the idea of a picnic himself. But it's a surprise to him when you relay your wish. Nonetheless, he tries his best to make it a reality for you. He remembers a particular spot you'd driven by when going back from a mission, somewhere up in the hills with the view of the sea and he knows it would be exactly how you pictured. He helps you pack the snacks and you can't stop him when he packs some alcohol as well, perhaps it's nice to indulge in. He makes light chatter while eating and his laugh makes for the perfect soundtrack to accompany the atmosphere. You'd never seen him so relaxed and you think to yourself that perhaps you should bring him out more often.

Pesci:

You are unable to miss the excitement in his eyes when you tell him you'd like to go on a picnic. He'd wanted to go for a very long time but didn't mention it out of fear you wouldn't enjoy it and then he eventually forgot. What better place than the beach to relax in and eat some cheese with crackers while he fishes? He encourages you to dip your toes in the water even if only for a moment and you two get to sit at the dock for idle chatter while watching the sun go down. He even brought jackets for the both of you in case it gets cold. If you're up for it, he'll pack swimsuits to splash around in the water. The best part is that you never have to walk back to the car because he can fetch anything with Beach Boys.

Formaggio:

The moment when Formaggio woke up to see you packing for a picnic early in the morning, he realized he was in love. He already knew he loves you but something about the mirth in your eyes and your excitement for the outdoors that day made him so sure he's in love, a state of being he wasn't ever expecting to be in. He'd readily agreed to go on an outing that day, joking that perhaps you could have a picnic at home where he shrinks you both and you get a little doll house to eat in. You want to humor his idea some other time but for now it feels nice to have him slip his fingers through your hair while having some cheese. Of course you joke about the situation and he rolls his eyes with no real irritation. In his mind however, he wants to freeze the moment and live in it forever.

Melone:

In some ways, Melone is the perfect companion for a picnic. You know this because you have already gone to quite a few of them with him. He's helpful, chatty, and cheerful the whole time. There's never a dull moment between you two as you sit on the blanket with some drinks in hand. The reason why you fell for him in the first place becomes all too clear when he says something witty just to hear you laugh or cringe in utter disgust, on purpose because he loves your reactions to such things. He always makes his appreciation towards you known in these moment, rather classically holding your hand to profess his sincere feelings. You always feel him opening up from his façade whenever you get him alone in these moments.

Illuso:

He's hesitant when you tell him you're planning a picnic. He assumed it would be in a park full of people but when you request him to take you to the mirror world he understands your idea and he enjoys it so much. Seclusion and solitude are things that go hand in hand for him and with you in the picture he can't imagine a better way to spend his day. He's not picky on the food or the picnic spot and he knows you wouldn't disappoint with your selection. A lot of the picnic is spent in silence, not that it's a problem between you two, the shared intimacy of holding one another and listening to nothing is much too precious to the both of you.

Ghiaccio:

It was surprising how quickly Ghiaccio warmed up to this. Truthfully, you were expecting you'd have to convince him heavily before he agreed, but you're not complaining. You don't realize how much he just wants to see you happy when you're distracted at the beautiful scenery you're driving by. He's uncharacteristically silent because he doesn't want to miss the wind in your hair or the cheer in your voice when you speak. He tries to keep his composure from melting at your joy, only being able to blush at your chatter. And when you try to feed him a piece of fruit he all but almost explodes from his heart racing. No matter how long you are together he cannot get used to the warmth of your presence next to him.

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