#he’s impulsive too and doesn’t show that much remorse anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tkaulitzlvr · 8 months

Note

i’ll be needing a part 2 of persistent pls🤭

PERSISTENT (2) - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you realise that you have pushed your limits after your antics at the club earlier, tom not holding back on showing you this once you both arrive home.

content: smut

a/n: i have no idea why so many people wanted a part two to persistent, but its been asked for in both my inbox and comments so i decided to do it so u guys can leave me alone🙄🙄, but yea hope this lives up to ur expectations (they better be low bc this is terrible💯)

the house is silent, my heavy feet trudging up the stairs, a small smile on my face as i anticipate what tom has on his mind - though i know deep down that i shouldn’t be excited. he wouldn’t go easy on me, not after how i had acted. in fact, the way his jaw remained clenched, eyes dark and cold, hands gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles began to turn white, veins prominent through them, if i had any sense within me, i would be scared - knowing that whatever unspoken words he is holding back would not be gentle ones, his actions bound to be even less forgiving. though i am far too focused on the pleasure he will bring me to consider the fact that he probably doesn’t plan on showing me any remorse, not at all regretting my attitude, even though i probably should.

when tom would get like this, so utterly infuriated with me, he wouldn’t hold back, switching from the gentleness he usually showed me in bed, often leading to me uttering the safe word that he had put in place for instances like this. when he would often act on impulse, unable to judge when it became simply too much, his anger driving him to be a little too reckless, the short word acted as a safety net, tom knowing that he had to stop, no matter how much part of him wanted to keep going, this his way of teaching me a lesson. it never seemed to work though, the thought of him being rough only turning me on, leading me to act this way in order to get this side out of him.

however, the new presence of this word meant that no matter how much i begged him to stop, his pace wouldn’t falter until i uttered the four letter word - blue. it didn’t matter how many tears ran down my cheeks, knuckles clutching the sheets so hard that they turned white, mouth open in silent screams, muttering words of discomfort, he would only speed up his movements, knowing that unless i said the word, i enjoyed the pain in some twisted way, not wanting it to stop despite the way my voice would say otherwise.

the room is quiet as i enter it, bed neatly made, cushions laid out in a specific pattern, sheets tucked perfectly into the sides, not a single crease visible on the white silk. it is a shame - i know tom too well to recognise that it won’t look that way for much longer, the bed likely to become a complete mess before he has even entered me. somehow i don’t flinch when the sound of the front door roughly opening echoes throughout the peace, diminishing it instantly. the loud slam that follows instead sends a surge of excitement through me, a knowing smirk on my face, not ready to let tom win just yet.

so i act nonchalant, calmly walking over to my vanity, humming incoherently, my hands grabbing a makeup wipe from the side, making contact with my skin as i begin to wipe my makeup off, starting with my foundation. i had noticed his footsteps making their way up the stairs the second his foot had made contact with the carpet, yet i tuned the sound out, continuing my innocent humming, acting like tom isn’t minutes, maybe seconds, away from fucking me so hard my vocal chords wouldn’t have the strength to whisper anymore, let alone sing to myself.

my eyes close as the makeup wipe glides over the skin, leaving a baby pink residue on the material, my face now bare besides from the red tinge still present on my lips.

“the fuck are you doing?” his low voice sounds through the room, my eyes turning to the reflection of the mirror, met with his large frame stood in the frame of the door. he had been stern with me since finding me outside the club, clearly thinking that his threats would scare me, not expecting to find me doing the exact opposite of what he had instructed, his expression more angry than ever.

“taking off my make up. i’ve told you it’s bad for me to sleep with it on, i don’t want my skin to break out.” i ramble, shrugging nonchalantly as i begin to stand up. my face is neutral, yet inside, my nerves tinge with satisfaction at the sight of tom’s jaw clenching, a loud groan leaving his lips.

he says nothing, my back to him as i begin to reach for the zipper of my dress, though i don’t get far. his own hands roughly tug mine away from my back, placing them harshly by my side as he spins me around, pushing my body against his and smashing his lips onto mine. the kiss is nothing short of desperate, rough and sloppy, tongues fighting for dominance, this enough to distract me from his quick steps that walk me into the wall, my back colliding harshly with it.

“you just don’t know when to fucking stop, do you?” he grunts, tugging his large black jacket from his frame, discarding it somewhere on the floor. his hands firmly grab my face, pulling it towards his own and reconnecting our lips, his teeth biting mine harshly, marvelling at the small whine of discomfort that leaves my lips, eager to cause me small drabs of pain - not enough to hurt me, but just the right amount to make me lose my stubbornness.

“jump.” he mutters against my lips, his hands hooking underneath my thighs in anticipation for my movement, yet i shake my head, much to his disbelief, a small smile tugging on my lips.

he pulls away, eyes narrowing once he picks up on my amusement, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip.

“you think this is funny, hm? come on, laugh again, i dare you.” he begins, studying the way the smile on my face slowly fades, caving in as he towers over me, one arm resting against the wall behind me. he nods his head, signalling me to show the same sense of entertainment i gained from disobeying him, though he doesn’t receive it, my mouth closing, eyes looking upwards into his own innocently.

“that’s what i fucking thought. y’know, i think you’ve forgotten your place. you really need me to remind you? ‘cause you know i will schatz.” he threatens, a satisfied grin on his lips once he realises how submissive i have become. i stay silent, a small hum leaving his lips as his hands grab the flesh of my thighs, hoisting me upwards. my back is flush against the wall, hips directly against his as he holds me up, fingers digging into the skin, my dress riding upwards slowly.

“fucking pathetic.” he whispers, his lips ghosting over mine, immediately noticing the way my head moves forwards slowly, silently begging for him to kiss me once again. for a second, he puts me out of my misery, capturing my lips in a soft kiss, humming into it slightly, acknowledging the way i quickly kiss back, unapologetically desperate for him. though he pulls away once he has hooked me in to the point that my kisses become faster, tugging on my lips slightly as he moves backwards, smiling sadistically when i whine in frustration, taking one hand and smoothly caressing my cheek, taunting me more than he ever has before.

he stays teasingly close, torturing me at this point, dipping his head even closer momentarily, dragging his thumb across my lips, collecting my saliva. he adores my weakness, loving how he is already in control, continuing to tease me despite the fact that he has won - he had the second he came to find me at the bar. we both knew that, yet i kept up my guard for too long, it’s presence now so thin it is almost non-existent.

“i don’t know why you try to act like you’re in charge. you and i both know you’ll be screaming my name in five minutes. you don’t have to hide it, i can read you like a book. you know it, you’re just humiliating yourself.” he chuckles lowly at my silence, dipping his head downwards as his lips make contact with my neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin. i tilt it to the side, giving him easy access.

my eyes fluttering shut once his lips touch the sensitive spot below my ear, i know that he has me under his control. and when he tears me away from the wall, walking over to the bed with my thighs still hooked around his waist, i don’t try to fight it anymore. he is frustrated, much more than he was when we entered the car, me disobeying him just once was enough for him to lend me no sympathy, this communicated once my back makes contact with the bed, roughly colliding with the soft mattress.

he climbs on top of me, my legs spreading instinctively to allow him within them, and closer to the place where i needed him most. sure, he would’ve found his way between them regardless of if i had obliged or not, but i decide to make part of it easier for him. his hands pull them apart even further, my dress now bunched up at my hips, lace panties on show for him.

“where’s that fucking attitude of yours now, hm?” he questions, studying the way my chest heaves up and down, the wet patch on my panties inches away from his face as he bends downwards, placing a soft kiss over the material, my hips bucking upward at the unexpected act. he grabs the flesh, forcing them back downwards, his head emerging from between my legs.

“don’t think i’m going easy on you ‘cause you’ve stopped acting like such a brat.” he states, hands roughly tugging my panties down as he speaks. “we’re past that point now. you’re getting fucked until you can’t use that mouth of yours to act out anymore.”

his words aren’t a threat, no, they are nothing short of a promise. sure, he says a lot of things when he is angry, but right now, each syllable that pours from his beautiful lips is nothing but the truth. and, whilst i couldn’t hide from the slight fear that habituated within me, the aching between my thighs overpowered it, throbbing desperately, needy for some sort of stimulation.

my silence is music to his ears. even though my acts of rebellion fuel his desire to ruin me, he much prefers me at his mercy, begging for him, my entire body his possession, his name written all over it, marking me as his own.

once my panties are somewhere on the floor, he moves to my dress, motioning for me to sit up, his calloused fingers attaching themselves to the zipper, tugging it downwards with such force the soft material rips. i gasp in disappointment, a tinge of anger rising within my chest, prompting the misbehaved side of me to make another appearance.

“are you fucking kidding me? that dress cost-”

“fucking shut up. i’ll get you a new one.” he mutters, tugging the material off of my body, leaving me completely naked beneath him, tom still completely dressed.

normally, i love his style, his baggy jeans and layers of t-shirts suiting him perfectly in most circumstances. yet right now, when i want nothing more than to feel his body against my own, it proves to be more of an inconvenience. he tugs the oversized denim downwards and off of his frame, his t-shirt soon following once he manages to tear it off. his dick prints firmly through his boxers, the outline prominent through the material, the thickness of it making the heat in my thighs unbearable as i move to clench them together, desperate for some sort of friction.

he shakes his head, roughly prying them apart with one hand, the other raking his boxers downward, his dick hitting his lower abdomen, the tip red, his erection so prominent it looks almost painful.

“all fours.” he orders, stroking himself a few times, watching as i turn around, positioning myself as he asked. he groans breathily from behind me, pumping himself a few times before i feel his tip meet my entrance.

he is unforgiving, thrusting his hips forward in one fast motion, moving his dick completely inside of me, not giving me any time to adjust as he usually would. i cry out in pain, my walls stretched out to the point that it is uncomfortable, the feeling of his tip prodding deep inside of me, combined with his thickness continuing to stretch me out creating a sensation that causes tears to build in my eyes.

“fuck- it’s too much…hurts.” i manage to let out, voice shaky as the angle doesn’t at all help my case. in fact it worsens it, my back arched in the air, arms flat against the bed, shaking as they try to hold me up, close to letting out.

“take it.” he says, cursing underneath his breath as he begins a fast pace, almost pulling out completely, before slamming back into me. “you want to act like a brat, i’ll treat you like one. you wanted this, don’t back out now.”

he knows that he is being rough, he can tell from the way low whimpers leave my lips with each quick movement of his hips. words almost inaudible, small utterances of discomfort muffled into the sheets, soon fading into screams of pleasure, cries of pure ecstasy, proving just how much he was right. and though i cannot see his face, my own smushed into the pillows, through his small groans, i can sense the sadistic smirk on his lips as he continues to pound into me.

“look at you, so fucking needy.” he taunts, his hand slowly reaching to grab my hair as i silently thank myself for tying it in a ponytail earlier. though now it is wild, wispy hairs falling from the hair tie, the ends ruffled slightly. yet he is able to take it easily, using it to pull my body upwards, back flush against his chest. he doesn’t make any attempt to be gentle, a loud yelp sounding from my lips as he ensures our bodies are pressed together, his fingers continuing to run through my hair.

“try to talk back now, like you did earlier on. you can’t, can you?” he questions, already knowing the answer. my mouth is wide open in a silent scream, head resting back against his shoulder as breathing consistently even proves difficult, tuning out everything besides from the sharp movements of his dick in and out of me. even his words are muffled, not registering in my head, this providing him with even more satisfaction, any communication soon melting into loud gasps, unable to muster any sort of response.

“doesn’t matter how many times i tell you. you’ll never learn, will you?” he scolds, his own voice shaky, often cut off with small groans, faltering especially when my walls clench around him. “takes me fucking you like this for you to shut that mouth of yours. you and your damn attitude.”

each time i clench around him, drawing his dick deeper inside of me, i wonder how much more i can take. god, i swear i can feel him inside my stomach, so full it is hard to breathe, the air, thick with the smell of sex, not helping my state. he seems to become more relentless, running his hands down my back, only to forcefully push my head back into the sheets, my high pitched moans now muffled into the silk, back arching subconsciously, each stroke of his cock inside of me making me more weak, swearing that i will collapse if he continues, struggling to hold my lower half up despite tom’s harsh grip on it.

his hand finds it way to my stomach, snaking around my waist to press downwards harshly, my mouth falling open at the sensation, able to feel every inch of him inside me, unable to hold back the loud cries that pour from my lips.

“fuck- oh my god!” i whine, lifting my head upwards from the sheets momentarily, teeth sinking into my bottom lip. my entire body trembles, the knot in my stomach tightening with each harsh thrust, his hips snapping against me at an even faster pace, his momentum somehow increasing.

“you feel it, hm?” he groans, fingers digging into the flesh of my hips, nails leaving marks in place of the soft skin. “sometimes you don’t realise how lucky you are. that you’re the only girl- fuck! you’re the only girl who gets to feel me inside of you, yet you can’t help yourself, can you? always have to act out…shit!”

the soft curses that spill from his lips become more frequent, this along with the feeling of his dick twitching inside of me letting me know that he is close too.

“i can’t- gonna cum!” i moan, pushing myself backwards so that i am closer to him, forcing him that little bit deeper inside of me. i writhe my hips, squirming slightly as my release is within arms reach, silently praying that he will put me out of my misery and let me cum - knowing that i am stupid to think that he is going to be so lenient.

“fucking hold it. you’re not cumming yet, you don’t deserve to.” he states, thrusting a few more times before his dick twitches one final time, ropes of his hot cum shooting into me. his nails dig into my ass as he kneads it, his release continuing to wash over him, a chorus of loud grunts leaving his lips.

now he is moving so slowly, riding out his high, teasing me by doing so, the slow strokes of his cock inside of me more unforgiving than his fast movements before. his tip, milking out the last drops of cum, now hits my g-spot repeatedly, each deep thrust sending me literally insane as it becomes impossible to hold my release.

“please- i can’t…i need to cum, can’t hold it.” my begging is almost pitiful to him, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he keeps moving in and out of me, despite the fact that his climax has been and gone.

“you wanna cum, hm?” he teases, pushing me upwards by my stomach so that my back is pressed against him once again. this time, his lips make contact with my neck, nibbling at the skin, his tongue running over it soon after, the feeling only making it more difficult as i continue to beg.

“mhm…please tom, let me cum. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” i plead, my words coming out as a low whine, tears cascading helplessly down my cheeks. he hums against me, the bass within his voice sending a shiver throughout my body.

“hmmm, are you really sorry, baby?” he teases, knowing that i am willing to say anything to let go of the knot in my stomach, on the verge of screaming at the top of my lungs in pure rage.

“mhm, yeah…i’m so sorry…i’ll be good from now on…so good! please, let me cum- shit!” my voice is hoarse, throat sore from the loud moans that have escaped from the back of it, completely worn out, beyond desperate to feel my release.

“go on baby, cum for me, c’mon.” he says, kissing my shoulder slowly as i nod my head vigorously, letting go of the tight knot in my stomach.

my head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut, swearing that i can see stars as my mouth falls open, a high-pitched moan escaping from it as i clench around him one last time, my release washing over me. i almost fall forwards at the feeling, so overwhelming that i lose the strength to hold myself upright. tom collapses with me, still thrusting in and out from above me, fucking his load deeper inside of me, his chest heaving up and down as he does so.

his movements slow down as i sigh in relief, completely spent. however he pulls out of me momentarily, only to flip me on my back in one swift movement, quickly bottoming out inside of me once again.

i cry out at the sensation, unable to handle the feeling of his sharp thrusts, overly sensitive from being teased for so long before.

“i can’t take it…it’s too much!” i whine, already a moaning mess, yet this time, the pain overtakes the pleasure, coursing within me no matter how much i attempt to drown it out, his rough strokes stretching me out so much that it soon becomes uncomfortable.

“yes, you can.” he states, holding my arms above my head, his hands keeping my wrists in place. he is adamant on ensuring that i learn my lesson, and, the discomfort that overtakes any other feeling silently confirms that i will never act out again, struggling to stay still as my entire body squirms.

“please…i can’t…”

“not stopping until you learn that you don’t get to act like a fucking brat and not get punished for it.” he says, circling his hips a little, moving in and out ever so slowly, reducing the speed of his thrusts, instead focusing on the small whines that he elicits from my lips at the change in pace, noticing the way my face contorts in pleasure.

the slight change in angle allows him to press directly against my spot, rather than brushing past it with each deep stroke, another release soon building up within me, the overstimulation meaning it doesn’t take much to take me there. and, i can tell that he is getting close too, his breathing becoming fast and heavy, hands squeezing the flesh of my thighs as he uses them to thrust in and out of me.

he fills me up once again, teeth sinking into his lip as he does so, a restricted whine emitting from the back of his throat, the sudden pressure triggering my own climax. my hands find their way to his biceps, maintaining a tight hold as i squeeze them harshly, chest heaving up and down, unable to handle the slow rocking of his hips. he rides out his high, before picking up his pace once again, clearly looking for a third round, seemingly unaffected by his two previous orgasms. he is pushing my limits and he knows it, watching the way my face twists, forehead lined with sweat.

his head falls backwards, eyes fully closed, mouth slightly open, and, if he wasn’t so lost in his own satisfaction, i am sure that he would be teasing me somehow, reminding me how pathetic i look underneath him, or scolding me for my antics earlier on. though he saves his energy, instead using it to build up his pace, tuning out the sound of my small whines.

“stop- i can’t anymore!” i beg, tears rolling down my cheeks, my voice small and shaky, legs trembling uncontrollably.

this time, he knows that i mean it, when i take my hand, taking it firmly, with as much strength as i can muster, against his chest, attempting to push him away. but, despite this realisation, he keeps going, not showing any intention of stopping, not until i say the word. yet it is on the tip of my tongue, holding back from saying it just yet, enjoying the pain in some messed up way. though i know that i am spent, unable to do anything but exhale rapidly, just able to shape together the word “blue.”

his eyes shoot open, movements coming to an immediate stop, face softening once he registers my state - eyes bloodshot, body shaking, lips wavering as they attempt to hold back the sobs dangerously close to sounding from them.

“shit- fuck baby, i’m sorry, are you okay?” he rambles, quickly climbing off of me, wrapping his arms around my small frame and pulling me into him, rubbing my back comfortingly.

“i’m fine it’s just- too much.” i whisper, my voice barely audible, throat raw. he notices this straight away, pulling me closer into his embrace, planting soft kisses into my hair, mumbling small apologies into it every few seconds, listening to my breathing as it eventually slows, my body relaxing into him, his hold on me making it easy to fall into a deep sleep, tom’s soft snores soon following.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz x reader #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz angst

445 notes · View notes

sailorgundam308 · 3 months

Text

Being the angst sucker that I am (but also a coward that doesn’t want to feel too depressed about bad endings), I headcanon a lot about the dynamics and end/post game canons for Astarion and Karlach as a couple (no shit!).

I know a lot of people ship Karlach with Dammon. I obviously don’t, but not because I think they don’t fit well together or whatever. I have this thing in my head of how I view Karlach which puts her relationship with Astarion as more realistic, more fulfilling, and more attractive to me (duh).

Dammon as a character is a nice, hard working guy. He’s also crazy handsome, has the hots for Karlach and some mechanics knowledge to be able to help her a bit. So yea, cool. I like him a lot so that’s not it.

BUT.

Just gonna blurt it out: I think Karlach is too fucked up to be with him in the canon universe we have. It’s a similar reason I have for how I see her reaction to the love test in the Circus in Act 3, which I made a post about. Had Karlach never been betrayed by Gortash, had not been irreversibly damaged (in more ways than one) and not been transformed by her 10 years ordeal, Dammon would be the ‘perfect pairing’ for her - a gentle, good hearted, generous and hot piece of ass. Thumbs up.

HOWEVER.

She’s not that girl anymore. She keeps it bottled up, pushes it down and shuts herself to what her trauma did to her and while it’s commendable, imo, it’s not real. She wants it to be so bad because she’s got so little time and is desperately clinging to her life before she started making mistakes (now being back in the Material Plane after so long). If she doesn’t die, though, she won’t keep this up forever. She’s carrying pain, remorse, ANGER, jealousy, self pity. A LOT of it. Much more than she let out in her post-Gortash breakdown. All these are very human emotions, and very understandable in her situation. She also changed, physically, mentally, emotionally. She grew, she learned- and it wasn’t all pretty and nice things. I like the idea that she’s being the most genuine character in the game while ALSO being the one wearing the most impenetrable mask. It’s wild and damn cool to see her through that lens.

Which brings me to Astarion.

He is also wearing a mask, but a much more frail one. He’s cracked. He tells and shows us these ugly emotions, his selfishness and hurt, much more directly than Karlach does. He’s broken, wicked, mean. It’s clear his trauma completely changed him (though I don’t think he was a good guy before it either), and is entrenched into who he is when we meet him - and will continue to be part of him even after he heals.

I think Karlach is attracted to him not in spite of how mean he is - but because of it. I don’t think she’s aware of it, though. She says something about Astarion having a good heart beneath it all - and while he might have something like a better heart inside that can be rescued, he’s not inherently good, nor he was before being turned (nor he wants to be). The dynamic of Karlach using goodness and positivity as a lifeline, as if to counter the decade of (literally) pure evil she’s been forced to endure, while also ‘surprisingly’ getting along so well with Astarion from the start, also being attracted to his wickedness, gives an incredible depth to their relationship. I see not only the idea of Karlach’s kindness, non-judgement and patience being a refuge for Astarion, but Astarion’s grey personality being a refuge where Karlach will be able to let her walls down - show the ugliness bottled up inside - without fear or shame, and knowing it will be completely and utterly understood. Astarion will never judge her for whatever impulses or thoughts she might have, for displays of selfishness, jealousy or violence. Imo, they can even work some of those out together (wink wink, but not only in that way lol). At the same time, I do believe Astarion saw from the first glance he had at Karlach (or in the first couple of days) that she carried a pain much like his. It’s why he respects her, why he is so quick to apologize to her and only to her, why he feels empathy for her suffering while being absolutely cold to the others. She’s the first one who gives him the opportunity of allowing himself to feel safe, to let his guard down if only for a night. His connection with her might be based on a selfish start (it’s about him - she is like him), but it grows to be more complex as they grow closer. I see him slowly falling in love with her as a parallel to him slowly learning to love himself, to forgive himself.

It’s all so beautiful, poetic and layered and shit (wow, me so eloquent).

But in all honesty, that’s all to say, while I think Karlach and Dammon look nice together, I see him as being the person who’d have been the one for her if she was just Karlach Cliffgate. However, she is not. She is Karlach Cliffgate and she is also Karlach Demonsbane - and for that ‘her’, Astarion - with his imperfections, his wicked ways and his darkness - is the one who truly fits her perfectly (or imperfectly, which imo is even better).

Thank you for reading all this rambling. I love rambling and will (can) never stop so good for you :V

AGH I LOVE bittersweet gritty messy romanceeeeeeee (but I wanna give them a better ending than the one in game - though if the patches weren’t broken, it’s improved a bit already)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 ramblings #bg3 character analysis #bg3 ship analysis #(is that a thing)#astarion x karlach #karlach x astarion #karlach #astarion #hellspawn #starlach #fireblood #why I love this ship so much #you can go so deep #and it’s not a fairy tale bs #it feels real #YUM

49 notes · View notes

lauralot89 · 1 year

Text

One Perfect Moment

Griffith is quite possibly the greatest villain of all time, and also the most misunderstood.

This is not to say he's done nothing wrong. He's done Everything wrong. He's done it so wrong that the wrongness is visible from space, and he did much of the Wrong well before he joined the God Hand. But somehow the common fandom view has become that he's a cold calculating monster well before the Eclipse, who doesn't care who or what he sacrifices in pursuit of his dream.

In actuality, everything the man does is driven by his emotions and especially his affection. He loves Guts too much to let him leave without a fight, he can't handle his sorrow on his own so he goes to Princess Charlotte, and when he's caught with the princess he can't get away because his sword is broken from the stupid impulsive fight he had rather than just telling Guts his feelings. Even the suicide attempt that started the Eclipse was a result of him having an emotional breakdown from overhearing Guts and Casca.

But this? This right here, when we see Griffith tearing his skin off in shame and self-loathing after he prostituted himself to a child predator because he personally felt responsible for a little boy's death? This is everything.

All you need to know to figure out what will happen to Griffith and the Band of the Hawk is this scene. It neatly lays out everything to come.

There is no war without death. There is no throne without blood spilled. And that may be logical, but contrary to popular interpretation, Griffith only acts like he's driven by logic. He's not. He's debased himself to the point that self-mutilation is the only way he can stand his own skin, all for the purpose of staving off the inevitable as long as possible.

And then he reaches a point where he's literally unable to debase himself further.

After losing the ability to walk, to hold anything, to speak, after losing skin and half his face and having his body violated in every imaginable way, including the most obvious ("like we were husband and wife"), there's nothing left for him give of himself, and his dream is still out of reach.

and then a bunch of demons show up when the man is out of his mind from a year of torture and isolation, and tell him he's a spoiled child playing with his friends' corpses and their suffering is for nothing if he doesn't kill everyone else and take the throne:

[Shredding his skin]: "I have neither regret nor remorse about that."

[Sacrificing everyone]: "I can't apologize. No, I won't apologize!"

if it helps you sleep at night, Griffith

They're both acts motivated by guilt from the pain he caused those who placed their faith in him, and the second one wouldn't hit so hard if not for the first. It's SO good and yes, he's a bastard, but he's not the heartless conniving bastard he's painted to be.

Perfect moment, no notes.

[as an aside I just realized when getting these images that directly before the Eclipse begins Griffith is mentally begging Guts not to touch him because he can't make stupid self-destructive choices when Guts is there and then he doesn't make the decision to join the God Hand until he can't hold onto Guts so they aren't touching anymore, amazing work]

#si cw #blood cw #side note I pretty much lost all interest after this sequence #because then the thing with Femto and Casca happens and why #why is it drawn like that #why did it need to exist #Griffith #I love him as I love all white haired anime boys #Berserk meta

202 notes · View notes

rainy-day-coffee · 3 years

Note

Helloooo. First of all, I definitely LOVE your writing! Theyre so fun to read! And second, can I request hcs...or scenario (you can choose!) with octa trio + riddle and idia accidentally hearing their fem crush gushed enthusiastically about them to her friends? Thanks a lot!

AH- Thank you so much!! (^///^) I have a lot fun writing these for everyone, I’m super happy you like my posts!

Oh anon, this idea!!! I had so much fun with this!! I hope you like it! I genuinely want to make these all into full-fledged scenarios or maybe just mini-scenarios! If you would like one of those, you are more than welcome to ask for it! I’m going to have brainrot about this idea for a long time now, it’s just so cute!

Finding their fem!crush gushing about them to her friends!

Azul had just been minding his business, making his way through the campus of NCR, students avoiding him as usual.

Walking around the corner, he hears you squealing to your group of friends. You sound so excited! It piqued his curiosity so he hid. Just what opportunity could you be presenting him with?

Very jealous at first, he doesn’t know who you’re talking so highly about. He never had much of a fair chance at a relationship with you, or so he believes. He supposes this conversation can be used as black-mail in the future.

And then he hears his name being followed along by another string of compliments.

Almost lets out the loudest gasp, but stops himself in time. He blushes a very deep shade of red. This isn’t fair. You shouldn’t be allowed to make his heart beat this quickly. And all those words of adoration, goodness! What is he supposed to do?

He’s thankful that he sent the twins off to go do something. Otherwise, they would tease him and push him towards you with no remorse.

He proceeds to go straight to his room, launch himself into bed, hug a pillow, and roll around and squeal in joy.

He can use this to his advantage! Your little indirect confession will be used as coverage for when he ropes you into a contract! A contract of love that is!

Jade and Floyd can’t help but notice their boss is in a much happier mood the following days!

He already knew you harbored feelings for him. Remember, he’s amazing at reading people. Now, he was simply waiting for you to make your move.

He really hadn’t expected to find you and your friends in an empty hallway. You were practically vibrating in place while you told them about a certain crush of yours.

How bold of you to talk about such things in public! You can never know who will be listening.

His outside expression doesn’t change. He’s still smiling like usual. On the inside however, he’s quite happy. Technically, this doesn’t count as an advance on your part, but he can use this situation to his benefit.

He makes his way forward ever so quietly. Wrapped up in your excitement, you don’t even seem to notice him.

Your friends desperately try to tell you about the looming eel that is right behind you, please quiet down before you embarrass yourself further.

It seems to be too late for that though.

You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, finally alerting you of his presence. It’s no use trying to play off the situation, he heard just enough to know.

No please, go on, he insists. Just what else do you have to say? He wants to hear all of it.

Floyd never made his feelings a secret! This applies to his crush on you too! He’s a lot clingier with you, and he tends to drag you around more than anyone else! It’s quite obvious that you’re his obsession. However, you had yet to confess your love for him. What a shy shrimp you are! He’s starting to get a little impatient.

He wasn’t in the best of moods when he overheard your “confession.” He didn’t feel like working at Mostro Lounge or doing that really long assignment Professor Trein had given out. He was so bored.

His mood does a complete 180 when he hears you absolutely “melting” over a “tall and attractive eel who loves to squeeze you.”

He’s so happy to hear that! He knew you loved him too! He quickly becomes annoyed soon after though. Shouldn’t you be telling him these things to his face? It’s quite rude to not be honest with a person.

Goes up and just glomps you right there and then, it doesn’t matter who you’re with or where you are. It’s time to spend the rest of your day with him now! Go on! Tell him about how much you adore him! You have a lot of nerve making him wait!

He’s going to squeeze you all day! This is your punishment for not confessing sooner! It’s impossible to escape now, when Floyd makes up his mind nothing can stop him.

Trey had told Riddle to take a short break from his paperwork. Not wanting to go far from the dorm, he decided to take a stroll through the maze. It was meant to be a relaxing 10-minute walk, not a stressful be quick and hide situation. He did it on impulse! He really didn’t know you were going to be here talking your heart out.

He knows it’s extremely rude to listen in on a private conversation, but he can’t seem to stop. What kind of person have you fallen in love with while he yearns for you?

He almost starts to cry when he realizes it’s him. You sound so genuine and happy when you talk about him! Even if he isn’t your boyfriend just yet, he feels so loved!

Always having been self-conscious for his lack of romantic knowledge, he’s glad you seem to like him anyways! He’s been trying to show off a bit with his magic and intellect lately, it’s paying off it seems!

Feels very guilty nonetheless, he had no right to hear any of this. When he confesses one day, he’ll do his best to apologize.

Riddle tries to calm his racing heart and stop the intense blush on his face before he leaves. He’s quite grateful Trey forced him out here.

He was watching you through the cams he has set up around school. He wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything! He simply happened to be on the right camera at the right time.

He assumes the worst automatically. His self-loathing increases with every compliment you seem to give this mystery person. It clouds his logical thinking. Of course you would love someone else. He just spends his days wasting your time and doing nothing but hanging out in his room. He’s terrible with socializing too. You deserve a lot better.

The bigger part of him wants to shut-off his monitor, not wanting to listen anymore. The smaller part wants to know who’s the object of your affection. Who matches the description of “beautiful, long blue hair,” “pretty yellow eyes,” “adorable fanboy,” and “extremely smart.” It genuinely takes him a good minute or so to figure it out. It helps that you practically shout out his name too.

His entire being turns red, hair included. A room temperature increase follows suit.

His heart can’t handle this! You’re the heroine to this story! You’re supposed to get with one of the cool SSR characters?! The NPC character isn’t a part of the romance list!

Nearly collapses onto the floor in complete happiness and confusion. He’s not complaining, not at all! However, he does begin to question your taste in men.

Ortho is now rushing to his brother’s room. The levels of heat are getting dangerously high and he is panicking. He knows his brother can get random bursts of excitement, but never to this extent!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst headcanons #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader

877 notes · View notes

ashesandhackles · 3 years

Text

The Resurrection Stone Scene: Culmination Of Harry's Emotional Arc

The series biggest themes surround death and Harry coming to terms with his parents' death is arguably his biggest emotional arc. I have argued in my meta about Harry before that he has passive death wish and morbid fascination with the dead. This is obvious in his desire for the Resurrection stone while Ron and Hermione choose other Hallows, his obsession with Mirror of Erised (to the point he feels feverish) until Dumbledore intervenes, him almost wanting to fail to learn a Patronus because he wants to hear his parents voices,the scene at the grave where he almost wishes he was "lying under the snow" with his parents and that possession scene in OOTP, where he wishes to die so he can be with Sirius. Harry has, in many moments, shown a raw desire for death - in ways that actually scares Hermione and makes Ron uncomfortable as evidenced by their reaction when he tells them why he wants the Resurrection stone.

Harry's fascination with the dead isn't surprising - this abused and neglected boy learned in PS that his parents fought to protect him. Essentially they loved him so much, they died for him and Harry feels robbed of that life, a life with parents who loved him dearly (reference his narration in HBP, where he wonders what life would have been like if Neville was the Chosen One).

So accepting his parents and parental figures' deaths and choosing to return to life - a life of sorrow, pain, and trauma when he could have just gone "on" (or had "an out" as he screamed in OOTP) - is one of Harry's bigger heroic decisions. To come to a point that Harry can ask his parents' murderer to feel "remorse" in an attempt to save his soul, Harry needed to see and hear things he always wanted to hear from the people he loved.

So, the scene starts:

"You've been so brave"/ "Stay close to me"

LILY: While in life, Harry knows a lot more about James than Lily, it is interesting whenever she appears in any form, Harry is looking at her the most ("I will be back" Harry says, tearing his eyes from his mother's face in PS/ and once again in DH, he couldn't stop looking at her: "his eyes feasted on her"). She is his mother, the one who loved him so much, it magically manifested as a protection that gave him 17 years of life. Her love is always there as safety blanket - so even when his father disappointed him in OOTP, he is comforted by the idea that his "mother had been decent". She is his ultimate protector and this is why he asks her : "stay close to me" while she is gently affirms, "you've been so brave". And unsurprisingly, it is this sacrifice that lives on in Voldemort that gives Harry a choice - a choice to return to the living. After spending much of the series trying to be like his father, Harry embodies his mother by invoking sacrificial magic for Hogwarts fighters. But his embodiment of his mother is not an impulsive brave decision, his walk to his death is far more intentional than hers - as the book narration says, "it's a cold blooded walk to his destruction".

"You are nearly there, very close, we are so proud of you" / "Until the very end"

JAMES - his father, the man he looks like, flies like, and tries to root his identity in. Harry spends most of the books trying to live up to the ideal of his father. His Patronus is an embodiment of his father ("Prongs rode again last night"), and it is James' bravery that gives Harry comfort at the traumatic night in the graveyard and makes him want to stand up and fight Voldemort: "He was not going to crouch like a child, he was going to die upright like his father" (as Voldemort taunts him: "now you face me like a man..like your father, straight backed and proud").

James is catalyst to lot of Harry's growth. Harry making an active choice after being horrified by his father's behaviour in SWM, wondering "did he want to be like his father anymore?" is an important character moment for him. He reconciles his view of James, humanises him and thinks of him with "a rush of pride" in HBP as the man who walked into an arena to fight with head held high. So, Harry hears from the father he tried for so long to embody and then surpass in moral character - that he is proud of him and that he will be there to protect him "until the very end".

Here is a meta by u/metametatron4 that tracks Harry's feelings about his father and Snape in detail. Read it here.

"Dying? Not at all - quicker and easier than falling asleep" / "We are a part of you - invisible to everyone else"

SIRIUS - While Lily and James affirm how far Harry has come, Sirius as the parental figure Harry had in life offers him words of comfort when Harry asks if dying hurts.

This comfort has an added layer, knowing Harry's often violent response to Sirius's death. His reaction to his death has been attempting Crucio on Bellatrix, trashing Dumbledore's office in OOTP, along with other stages of grief. At the end of OOTP, Harry is a mess of unfocused grief and rage - one that he will actively repress in HBP. He avoids talking about Sirius until he thinks the person he is talking to is as invested in Sirius - he brings up Sirius with Buckbeak/Witherwings or Tonks, who he mistakenly assumes is depressed about his death. The biggest indication of how much Harry is really repressing his feelings about Sirius's death is his reaction to Mundungus stealing from Grimmauld place. He lifts Mundungus with one hand, chokes him until he turns blue while threatening him with a wand. He had to be magicked off Mundungus because he, terrifyingly, showed no inclination of stopping despite Hermione screaming at him to do so.

The other time he reacts badly is Lupin's scene in DH. The first person he thinks of when he says "Parents shouldn't leave their kids" is Sirius. He sees image of Sirius falling through the veil, followed by Dumbledore. His reaction to Lupin abandoning his child is powered by the unprocessed grief and rage of the deaths he has witnessed, of parental figures robbed from him. And then, of course, his violent impulse to break Bellatrix's wand with the sword of Gryffindor once Hermione points out that the wand killed Sirius. His violent reaction to his death is due to lack of closure.

This is why it is important that Sirius tells him that dying doesn't hurt, because it would have eased Harry to know that Sirius isn't in pain. And he assures "we are a part of you" - so even though there was no body to mourn and Sirius just effectively disappeared - Sirius is still part of him.

"He'll want to be quick, he wants it over"/ "I am sorry too. I am sorry that I will never know him...but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make the world in which he could live a happier life"

LUPIN - Lupin, like Sirius, also offers comfort by telling him that death will be quick because Voldemort wants to finish it too. It's interesting to me that Lupin is the character that says something that arms him for the future - should he choose to have it ("I'll tell him to follow his instincts which are good and nearly always right" Lupin says earlier in the book).

Lupin is a mentor, a bridge and by DH, a warm friend - he was the one who taught Harry the Patronus charm (a gateway to connection with his father + something that protects him) and it's Harry's trust in Lupin that makes him willing to hear Sirius out at the end of POA, thereby connecting him to a very important relationship. He gives Harry tools to equip him to best live out his life. And once again, Lupin acts as a bridge to Harry's life - he tries to take away Harry's guilt from his own death and leaving behind Teddy. Knowing that Harry survives, this is important for Harry to know so he can live with himself as he takes on godfather role to Teddy.

At the end of this scene, Harry drops the stone, ready for his death. And the fact that he chooses not to go back to it without much inner struggle after the Battle of Hogwarts is a marked shift and beginning for him.

461 notes · View notes

dreamteamspace · 3 years

Text

They really went there huh

/rp (good lord I rly hyperfixated on this essay huh)

torture tw, abuse tw, manipulation tw, gaslighting tw

So the Dream SMP built a character, once maybe morally gray, who slipped straight into villany with little to no desire to change, and willing to cause a LOT of pain to get his way. Despite this, he doesn’t question what he does enough to stop, justifying his actions with a good intent that doesn’t come close to justifying what he’s done.

C!Dream is unremorseful of what he’s done, he’s quite literally manipulated and gaslit (like actually, not in the way everyone keeps throwing the word around) c!Tommy, almost drove him to take his last life- like, jesus christ. That’s not even to mention blowing up L’Manburg three times, encouraging c!Wilbur, wanting the discs JUST to have power over c!Tommy, etc.

SO, he gets thrown in a box for it so he doesn’t hurt anybody anymore, making his own hubris his downfall (narrative consequence my beloved). This leads us to a good finale - the bad guy, the person who’s caused objectively the most pain and destruction, is now unable to do so anymore, taken down by the person whom he tried to weaken. It is also revealed he was planning on blackmailing and threatening pretty much everyone, but now everyone gets their stuff back.

Good, right?

Especially for the finale, yeah! The message of the finale is good, c!Tommy manages to escape his abuser with nothing more but his clothes on his back and fights his way back to c!Tubbo and his home.

He doesn’t let his trauma (which is still very present!) let him become a terrible person (arguably the way that c!Dream DID let his frustrations make him a terrible person, c!Tommy, despite bearing quite a heavy weight, recognizes when he begins to turn that way and actively works against it).

It shows that while alone, c!Tubbo and c!Tommy were outfought by Dream, but because c!Tommy went the length to ask for help (which he didn’t even really seem to be relying on actually showing up), he wins! It truly is a good message.

C!Tommy escapes his abuser and manipulator, refuses and fights his trauma to not become someone he doesn’t want to be, and defeats his abuser by asking for help and receiving it, even more than he thought he’d get. He refuses to play c!Dream’s “game”, refuses till the very last moment to let c!Tubbo die, to surrender and say goodbye to him.

So, great! Good finale! C!Dream The Villain is boxed like a fish in a prison of, quite literally, his own making. It sent a good message to people. C!Tommy wasn’t expected to forgive him and did, in fact, axe him down twice, causing c!Dream to finally fall from his high horse.

Most media would stop at this point, say the villain is now defeated and never show them again, or have them come back another one or two seasons later, escaped and seemingly unharmed and worse than ever.

Alternatively, there’s a throwaway line, (or, in good media, a genuine, reasonable backstory, complete with remorse and bad role models and complicated situations), that allows the villain to be redeemed.

In GOOD redemption arcs (See: Zuko from avatar tbh), the villain was already never quite as heartless, or stressed their good intent, or felt remorse for what they felt they “had to do”. Then, ideally, the villain takes a looooong time adjusting their habits, regretting their actions and changing until they’re considered redeemed.

Not on the Dream SMP, though.

They don’t stop at c!Dream’s defeat.

He doesn’t dissapear off-screen and is never spoken of again. His life continues on, everyone’s does, just like it would in reality. He doesn’t magically want to become a better person, far from it. So no redemption. But he doesn’t dissapear, either.

They go on to, slowly, stress how awful the conditions in Pandora’s Vault are. c!Bad says c!Dream should be imprisoned, but at least at slightly better conditions. We’re in very VERY morally gray territorry here. Nobody says c!Dream is a good person, of course not, but even c!Bad - who knows Dream was planning on keeping c!Skeppy in a cage to control him with - goes, “yeah, he should stay boxed, but does he really need to like... suffer suffer?”

Still, c!Dream seems to be kindof inconsistent in his behavior. Is he faking his pain? Is he not? His actions don’t fully make sense for either take. He acts differently to each person, but at the same time some things he does don’t make sense if he were just fishing for pity.

Then c!Sam admits to trying (and thinking he succeeded) to “break Dream’s will”, to quite literally starving him for weeks.

Okay, so now we’re a step further. C!Dream is now suffering even more, although already boxed and unable to hurt anyone. Pandora’s Vault is one thing, but now c!Sam just seems to be out for revenge and nothing more. Instead of spending his time with c!Tommy, he spends his time pickaxing(?) c!Dream.

C!Sam isn’t an angel, and we should all know that by now. He does what he thinks is right, but he’s deeper than that, all characters on the DSMP are.

He cares deeply for the Badlands, and would always choose them above anybody else. He’s a capitalist. He built the prison because it would benefit the Badlands resource-wise, despite knowing Dream would probably use it on his enemies, and it was no secret that ALL members of L’Manburg, especially c!Tommy, are his enemies. C!Sam, undoubtedly, knew that. He still built it.

Arguably, he didn’t know about c!Dream’s attachment obsession at the time, but the point still stands.

People have already latched onto the untold story happening between c!Dream and c!Sam, and frankly, we barely know enough about it. Does c!Sam torture him regularly? Do they talk? Does c!Dream try to verbally fight back? CAN he fight back? We don’t know! We’ve gotten proof for both, between c!Sam saying that c!Dream is terrifying even in prison and c!Dream going silent to go on strike. We don’t have enough of an idea how bad or how good it truly is.

So the people who prefer to humanize c!Dream and explore morality imagine c!Sam to downright torture him, people that prefer to see c!Dream as nothing but evil due to his actions imagine prison on the DSMP to not be equivalent to real life prison, and thus nowhere near as torturous as people are making it out to be.

Now all that is thrown out the window as c!Quackity quite literally tortures him.

So now the internet is faced with a question that, judging by some of the impulsive reactions *cough cough* celebrating torture *cough*, it didn’t turn out to be ready for.

Tell me.

How far do we go?

C!Dream hurt a LOT of people. He did a lot of things that caused irreparable damage. Now what? Do we torture him forever? Why? Because he deserves it? How do we determine that without comparing one kind of pain to another?

It’s custom and kindof generally respectful not to compare people’s pain too accurately, because different things vary greatly in severity depending on the person that experiences them.

At what point do we say he’s suffered enough without comparing exile to the prison?

And if we DO compare, does that even make the question easier to answer?

And if he’s never suffered enough ever, killing them would be a mercy...

At what point has a person done enough damage that they “deserve” to die? What if someone only did half of the things c!Dream did. But if c!Dream gets infinite punishment, and half of infinity is still infinity, do they ALSO deserve endless suffering?

Do you think every person that did something you can’t emphasize with deserves to suffer for eternity and die?

I’m not saying we SHOULD emphasize with c!Dream. He did things we cannot justify, that NOTHING can justify. He did things that were, by their nature, unjustified.

I’m also not saying anybody should forgive him. I think it’s a GOOD thing that c!Tommy doesn’t want nor is narratively pushed to forgive c!Dream.

But c!Dream doesn’t need c!Tommy’s forgiveness to be... a person.

There’s a saying that I’m sure you know, that goes “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”, because there’s things you wouldn’t want any human being to experience. Not because you like them, not cause you think they’re right, but because they’re human.

And perhaps this is my personal opinion, but I don’t think c!Dream being a bad person justifies dehumanizing him, because then we get into an area where someone needs to meet criteria just to be human.

I met someone once, whom, because of outside circumstances I knew I probably wouldn’t meet again. We’d been getting along just fine for people who just met, and were both getting into an interesting discussion about morality. They kept insisting upon something I kept refuting, so they said they needed to get something off their chest.

They proceeded to tell me that they had, years ago, while a teen, manipulated someone in a relationship, pushed boundaries and tried to convince them to do things they didn’t really want to do to get what they wanted.

They cried, while telling me, too terrified to tell anybody they know, terrified nobody would ever speak to them again, insanely regretful of their actions. They didn’t know whether to go back and apologize or just stay as far away as humanly possible, didn’t know which one the right thing to do is.

It had been years, by then, and I talked them through it. I said that what they did was bad, and there’s no going around that. But I also said what I saw, which is someone who would never do something like that ever again. I saw a human being. Someone who regrets a mistake they did and now, after enough time has passed, would do anything to make it undone.

Someone who is too terrified to be close to anybody in fear that they would do it again. I don’t remember if they already went to therapy or not, but it was definitly on the table, or in the near future.

They asked me how I could possibly even keep talking to them after they told me all that. They implied they felt like some kind of monster despite literally chocking back tears, firmly convinced they don’t deserve to be close to anybody in their life ever again.

I never swerved from the fact that what they did was wrong, and harmful. But I also told them they’re human. The universe isn’t keeping score. They want to be a better person now, and they were never going to learn how if they never let themselves be close to anybody.

I told them to seek therapy, and to slowly, carefully, try. Assured them that the fact that they regret it so strongly will at least help them in not falling back into the same pattern, and if they do, they can learn to recognize that.

They thanked me after the conversation, genuinely, especially for the fact that I didn’t sugarcoat what happened, because I know otherwise it would’ve felt like I was lying, like I was just sparing their feelings. I wasn’t. I was thinking about how to make sure they get to live without hurting anybody.

As per the circumstances, we didn’t speak again after that, which we knew basicly from the very start.

I still think about that conversation a lot.

Do you think they should’ve been locked up for life after it happened, instead?

Do you think this real human being, that I spoke to, that took years to realize their mistake - and never would have realized it if they hadn’t had the time to, if they’d been killed right afterwards - deserves to suffer forever?

Let me tell you something, from someone who’s been in more than one abusive situation: People that hurt you are human.

That doesn’t mean you have to forgive them. That doesn’t mean you have to like them. That doesn’t mean you have to make an effort to understand them. That doesn’t mean you need to go anywhere near them ever again.

You can hate them. You can be angry at them. You can (and should) go as far away from them as possible, and/or defend yourself.

But that doesn’t mean you have to dehumanize them.

You’re allowed to hate and dislike people that are human, because you’re human, especially if they hurt you. That’s how life is.

And to go back to my original point - c!Quackity torturing c!Dream is not something that should be celebrated.

There’s a difference between necessary measures (locking c!Dream up so he doesn’t hurt anyone), and torturing people for fun.

It’s not right. It’s never going to be right, and do not justify literal torture on human beings, and do not make someone lower-than-human to justify torturing them.

Taking revenge on someone for what they did tenfold is romanticized, I know, but I promise you it’s not actually as cool as it sounds.

#dreamwastaken #quackity #awesamdude #dream smp #dream smp analysis #dreamteamspace speaks #negativity #fandom critical #its finished and Im finally free #c!Dream #c!Quackity crit #c!Quackity critial

346 notes · View notes

fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

Text

♡〜Can you write an enemies to lovers one shot with Sam Wilson pls? 👉👈💖-anon〜♡

Sam Wilson x gender neutral reader

I don’t know much about Sam but I’ll try my best. I haven’t watched FATWS, and I have no idea what exactly the Sokovia Accords do.

Not very satisfied with this

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 1603

Warnings: swearing

Even before the Sokovia Accords, you and Sam had a bit of a rivalry.

He was too cocky, too brazen, took nothing seriously. One day, his joking nature would kill him. There’s nothing good about a wasted life. You know he’s skilled; even if his attitude got taken advantage of, he could handle the situation. That said, no prediction in life is 100% for sure. One moment, you’re having the time of your life; the next, you got nothing.

Though in reality, his humour only spiked up around you because he enjoyed seeing you annoyed. There was something about you becoming so easily pissed that made it so goddamn amusing. He liked having a leverage over you, especially when you were so damn serious about every single nitpicking thing. This didn’t mean you didn’t anger him, you were so called enemies for a reason. There’s certain things you do that are so infuriating. Things you do that everybody else does yet they’re so irritating when you do them.

He was always trying to show you up, and even if you knew that training wasn’t a competition or that you shouldn’t be arguing over senseless topics, you really wanted to wipe that shit eating grin off his face.

You couldn’t even stand in the same room together.

Signing the Sokovia Accords gave you a reason to beat the attitude out of him, and you’d gladly take it.

Although, that kid, Peter, apparently had it covered. The teenager fought against the two adults easily, to the point that you really didn’t need to interfere. Granted, that did mean you didn’t get to punch your rival in the face, but it was amusing enough to see him humiliated.

Besides, you had other things to do, something like deal with a ginormous ‘ant-man’.

After the fight and after Cap’s team became free fugitives, you’d received an anonymous call. Not one to be scared, you answered it.

“(y/n)!” The caller said with a familiar joking tone.

“Ugh,” You groan. “Sam.”

“Meet me at the cafe down the road from the tower. I’d like to catch up with you.”

“Who says I can’t arrest you?”

“I know you wouldn’t.” And with that, he hung up on you.

You thought you’d never have to deal with him again. Surely he would’ve kept his distance, surely he would’ve gone underground or something. But nooo, he just had to contact you, didn’t he?

“Sam.” You greet with an obviously annoyed tone.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite friend, (y/n)! This is your usual, right?” He gestures to the untouched plastic cup on the table. It is your favorite, how he knows that, you don’t know.

“Is this a date or something?” You ask, taking a seat.

“Who’s to say it isn’t?” His words shock you, though you don’t let it show. “Aww, come on, don’t look at me like that.”

Furrowed eyebrows and a deep frown decorate your face. You will yourself to ease, but you keep your guard up. “Spit it out, Wilson. What do you need me here for?”

“Now, why would you think I’m scheming something?” He stirs his drink with its straw absentmindedly, sending you a playful stare. He’s being oh so friendly, there has to be something he’s planning.

You scoff, and god does it infuriate him. He’d called you on impulse, he had no idea why and no idea why he even wanted to, but here you were. He had absolutely no plan. “Always pushing my buttons.” He mutters to himself. After clearing his throat, he speaks up again, “I only wanted to talk.”

You raise a brow, one that he really wants to punch off your face.

“You think I can’t do anything nice?”

“I think you’re extremely incapable of doing so.” You and your fancy vocabulary. He wanted you to whisper all your hatred towards him in words he couldn’t understand, just so he could make fun of them; or at least, he hoped. It certainly felt like he wanted it all for another reason.

“But, thanks for the drink.. I guess.” You weren’t raised just to have no manners.

“By the way you owe me-” You cut him off with a familiar glare. “Alright, alright, nothing.”

Suddenly you stand, taking your cup with you. “I have to get going.” For absolutely hating his guts, you look ashamed to leave. “Unlike you, I’m not a fugitive. I have a job to do.”

“Nice seeing you.” He says spontaneously.

“Yeah.”

For a supposed fugitive, you saw him around often. Each time he was nicer and kinder, even if he had even more of a reason to make you his enemy.

Even so, just like always, it was passive aggressive. But there was something new in it; as much as you didn’t want to admit it, the air would be filled with sexual tension.

Everytime you want to see him smirk, you want to both punch and kiss it off his face.

And, it’s only after that you stop seeing him on a regular basis that you realize that he brings out your playful attitude.

Out of all the people in the world, Sam Wilson was not who you wanted to be in a relationship with. Yet the world wanted to be cruel to you and tell you otherwise.

“How’ve the Sokovia Accords been treating you?” You had a ‘date’ at the cafe every week. Sometimes you dreaded it, other times you looked forward to it.

“Horrible,” You say, absentmindedly staring at the abandoned Stark Tower. “They don’t let us go on missions anymore. I’m glad Tony keeps me around, at least. Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Sam chuckles, god, you hated his laugh. He seemed to laugh at times where he - no, nobody should be laughing. “You’d need to get a civilian job.”

He relishes in the way you scrunch your face in disgust, laughing heartily. You hated the fact that each time you heard his lively sounds of amusement your chest would warm up. It was as if you enjoyed it.

You scoff, turning to look at him with a glare. He doesn’t seem to hate it as much these days. “What do you even do?”

“Oh, various things.” He shoots you a playful look. “I obviously can’t tell you.”

“Are they harder than beating a teenager?” You refer to his battle at the airport versus Spider-Man.

“I told you to drop that.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to the tower. The conversation goes stale for a while. The silence between you is insufferable, especially because the people around you talk so enthusiastically.

Sam takes the last sip of his drink before looking at you. “Hey,” as he reaches to tap you on the shoulder, you turn to him again. He freezes for a second then quickly pulls back his hand. He sends you a smile, awkward and seemingly nervous, “I gotta go.”

You nod. He takes his leave, walking quicker than you’ve ever seen him go. As you stare at his retreating form, your hand subconsciously rubs the place his was going to be. Your shoulder burns at the touch, as if it was denying your hand and calling for his.

Fucking Falcon.

“Hey, would you want to join…” Sam gulps, looking at everything but you. He’s nervous, has been for the past week. He refused to tell you why. “Me, Cap’ and the crew?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sam, this is what you call me for, at the middle of the night? What does that even mean?”

“Well, we do some vigilante stuff, make sure nobody knows it’s us. I was wondering if you wanted to join us.” Without giving it so much as a thought, you scoff. The sound disappoints him, of course you didn’t want to join him. What was he even thinking about?

“You think I would join you?”

But he saw how painful it was for you to sign the Sokovia Accords, your remorse as you fought them… you were a good person, he knew that.

“Then what are you going to do?” He groans, “The accords prohibit you from doing anything at all. The Avengers grouped together to save people. Even if they try to stop us, we have to keep going. We risk our lives for the people, not to appease the government!”

“But all of this happened because of our mistake! The Sokkovia Accords only-” You keep going on and on, to the point where you’re only spouting nonsense. Sam knows you, even if he’s been your rival the entire time you’ve known each other; as your former ally, he knows everything about your morals.

He knows you don’t mean this shit, he knows that you’re lying to yourself, and he knows that you regret signing. He can tell that much from the moments you’ve been spending together.

“(y/n), listen to me.” He puts his hands on your shoulders, stopping you from ranting any longer. “You’re lying to yourself.”

“You wouldn’t know that.” You scoff, despite the longing sensation he leaves on your shoulders. You try to push him away, but he doesn’t let you. “You-”

He interrupts you with a kiss and it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. It’s rough but it certainly wakes you up.

“You’re lying to yourself.” He repeats.

You take a deep breath, regaining your composure. “You’re right.”

“Come with me, please.” Sam pleads, trailing his hand up to your face and cupping your cheeks. “I miss having you on my side.”

You give in to his touch, moving into his arms for an embrace. “Alright.”

#sam wilson x reader #mcu x reader #enemies to lovers #🤬-swearshirt #marvel cinematic universe x reader #falcon x reader #anonymousrequest

66 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Title: Lasting Rivalries.

Word Count: 4.0k

Written for an anonymous commissioner.

Synopsis: Izuku loves you, but he doesn’t like Katsuki very much. It’s just a shame he can’t separate one feeling from the other.

TW: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Mentions of Past Assult, Violence, Non-Graphic Injury, Mentions of Drug Use, Implied Death, Unhealthy Relationships, and Delusional Mindsets.

[Part Two]

Within the day, Izuku’s base was abandoned.

It was a temporary measure, he’d explained, just a precaution to make sure Katsuki and all his nasty little friends couldn’t find their way back to his hide-out, which turned out to be a bunker tucked away underneath one of the many discarded office buildings on the edge of the city. It was almost impressive, how with only a wave of his hand, all of his lackeys uprooted themselves from the home they seemed so accustomed to with little more than an exasperated sigh or a remorseful shake of their head. If Izuku had been disappointed, you weren’t able to tell. Despite the rush, the anxiety that came with releasing a scorned hostage, he was all smiles, all gentle touches and soft tones and sentiments so patronizing, you began to think you’d almost prefer his anger.

He knew you were quirkless, now, and there wasn’t an observant civilian in the city who didn’t know about Izuku’s troubled past, of his fondness of those born without a gift. You couldn’t say you blamed him, not if you approached it objectively. It hadn’t been an easy burden to carry, growing up, but you weren’t growing up anymore, you weren’t a kid waiting for a quirk that’d never come or a teenager, balancing the embarrassment of daily life with the humiliation that came with being so undeniably different than your peers, and in such an unhidable way, too. You weren’t over it, but you were past it. You still remembered all those awful, disgusting things people said to you, but you didn’t let them keep you awake at night. You were dealing with it. You were moving forward.

Izuku wasn’t.

He wasn’t even trying to.

But, it wasn’t your place to call him out, not when it came to that, not when you were stuck inside your new prison - someplace just as confining, but only half as tolerable. Technically, it was an improvement. After abandoning his bunker, Izuku’s followers had dispersed, and along with a handful of his closest companions, you’d been taken to a seedy bar on the worse side of town, locked inside of a small, windowless room on the second story and forced to watch as Izuku threw away the key. There were no cards, this time, no unbais locks with a dozen different work-around, just a deadbolt on your door and four-digit code you’d never get the chance to guess at. He wasn’t taking any risks, this time, he wasn’t giving you the smallest opportunity to jump at. It was a new sense of determination that’d come in the form of a shackle around your ankle and a bottle of white, circular pills Izuku forced down your throat every time he took you beyond the confines beyond your four walls. Ones that made you dizzy, weak, sedated. A measure that couldn’t be for your own safety, despite Izuku’s attempts to insist otherwise.

He seemed busier, too, than he was before your abduction. It might just be because you didn’t have anything else to focus on. As far as you could tell, Izuku only let his inner circle know where you were being held, and they still seemed hesitant to do more than deliver your meals or offer a few passive niceties when they were forced to interact with you. Saying your company was limited would’ve been an understatement. He tried to make it up to you with books and gifts and outfits that were more for his enjoyment than yours, but you were lucky if his visits lasted longer than an hour. His wasn’t the face you’d prefer to see on a daily basis, but it was still worrying to have your captor be too preoccupied to serve as a real threat. And when he did make time for you…

Izuku liked to have something to hold on to. He liked to be able to squeeze, and pull, and bruise, even if the pain he caused was more of a byproduct than a goal. His intentions didn’t matter, though, not when his fingertips dug into your thighs, not when his teeth sank into your neck, not when he got a little too excited and only stopped because your complaints had gotten frantic enough to be annoying. You’d learned quickly that Izuku was an affectionate man, but you’d learned even faster that you never wanted to be the one that affection was directed towards. Having him go days at a time without checking in with you was concerning, but having him next to you was unbearable. You tried not to think about it, when you could help it.

Luckily, today was a case of the former, when Izuku had too much on his mind and too little time to sort it out to bother convincing you to love him back. He’d let himself into your room an hour ago, and yet, he hadn’t been able to do more than kiss your forehead and offer a muttered greeting before loosening his tie and setting to pacing, wandering back and forth through the cramped confines of your homey cage. It was starting to scare you. No, it was starting to terrify you. You’d passed the point of just being scared days ago.

You doubted he could say anything to comfort you, but you found yourself talking regardless. If only to fill the silence with something that wasn’t his constant, incoherent mumbling, really. “Something’s going on,” You started, trying to sound more confident than you’d ever be, around him. “Something’s going on, and you’re not telling me about it.”

His answer was automatic, the one he’d given you a thousand times over. “I’m taking care of it, darling.”

“Midoriya, please.” It was more of a plea than a request, an appeal to whatever love he might’ve had for you, whatever trust he might’ve had in you. You weren’t blind, you knew he didn’t think you were strong or capable or of any particular use beyond serving as a particularly high-maintenance ornament, but if he thought you were endearing enough to keep as a companion, he should’ve been able to treat you like a companion, too. “Right now, your safety is my safety. If someone’s going to break down that door and kill both of us…” You trailed off, forcing yourself to let out an airy, humorless laugh. “I should get to know who it’s going to be.”

For a moment, Izuku hesitated, but it was only for a moment. With a small sigh, the tension in his shoulder dissolved, and he took to rubbing the back of his neck, one in a never-ending line of nervous ticks. “It’s really nothing either of us can help,” He insisted, making a half-hearted attempt to break his concerned frown into a small smile. “A lot of my recruits were training to be heroes when I picked them up, did I ever tell you that? I got to most of them too early on for it to be useful, but a few have some experience. It makes it easier to tell with the other side’s planning something, not that they’d ever miss a chance to put on a good show.”

“And it’s been getting worse?” The sentiment left a bitter taste on your tongue. You never thought you’d speak a word against the hero industry, not so generally, but Izuku had a way of rubbing off on you, or the way you spoke, at least.

“It’s certainly busier than it should be,” He admitted, the words grumbled through grit teeth. “I’ve had to lie low, but that makes things difficult. There’s a hierarchy in this city, and people don’t tend to react well when the one on the throne goes into hiding. Weapon distributors aren’t getting their shipments on time, gangs aren’t keeping to their own territory, it’s all devolving into chaos, and all because those bastards can’t take a step back and let me tend to things.”

His hands were curling at his sides, now, his nails driving themselves into his bare palms with so much repressed ferocity, it almost looked painful. It was an impulsive thing to do, an act that’d play right into his delusional little fantasy, but that didn’t stop you from reaching out and taking him by the sleeve, pulling him towards your cot. Your chain rattled as you swung your legs over the side of your bed, but you tried to ignore it, biting the inside of your cheek and letting Izuku fall into place next to you. He didn’t try to resist, only going slack as his head lolled onto your shoulder.

Your next question came reluctantly, guiltily. You couldn’t be sure how long it’d been since you’d last seen Katsuki, but after a month came and went without the slightest hint of your boyfriend, your hopes had dampened, dimmed, turned into something much darker than you’d ever thought they would be. You still knew he’d come back for you. He had to come back, but you couldn’t know when he would. You couldn’t know how he might’ve changed, by the time he did.

You couldn’t know if he’d still be your Katsuki, by then.

“What about Bakugo?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Have you heard anything about him?”

With that, an almost sympathetic aire found its way to his tired expression. Somehow, he found just enough energy to reach up, running his finger through your hair as he drew you closer, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You went stiff, but you didn’t shove him away. You knew better than to reject Izuku so blatantly, by now. “You don’t have to worry about Kacchan. I let him get away, but I made sure he didn’t leave unscathed.” There was a pause, a hand finding its way to your hip. You fought not to recoil, and Izuku pretended not to notice. “He only picked up his patrol routes last week, and I’ve been keeping an eye on him. If he wants to get to you, he’ll have to pry you from my cold, dead hands.”

You wanted to ask again. You wanted to ask again, and again, and again until you ran out of breath and Izuku had to decide whether to gag you, starve you, or find a way to combine the two. It was a common choice to get stuck on, whether to quell your paranoia or side with your common sense, but ultimately, Izuku was the one to make the decision for you. It was soft, at first, the feeling of his lips ghosting over your skin, but things with Izuku rarely stayed innocent. Your body was rigid by the time you felt his tongue run over your jugular, your hands on his shoulder as his teeth ghosted over your neck, but by the time you moved to shove him away, he was already clinging to you, snaking an arm around your waist as his teeth sunk in, as he drew blood.

“I don’t--” You tried to complain, but you were cut off by a low hum from Izuku, a half-hearted sign of dismissal as he moved on to his next target, just above the dip of your collarbone. “Midoriya,” You tried, trying to shove him away. “This really isn’t the time, I’m really not in the mood. You were just talking how screwed we’d be if--”

“I was worried about it, and then, my angel comforted me. That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” He pulled you closer, nuzzling into your chest. “I’m just repaying the favor. It’d be unfair if I didn’t show my (Y/n) how much I appreciate them.”

He moved to go on, but suddenly, his eyes opened, his posture going stiff before he could say something to make you squirm and do something to make you hate him even more. You heard it a moment after he did, and felt it a second after that - voices, louder than they should’ve been, coming from the floor below, and then a crash that couldn’t have been accidental. There was a subtle tremors, a reverberation that left you locking your jaw into place. Izuku didn’t let go of you, but his grip loosened, his attention suddenly elsewhere.

And then, without warning, the floor caved in.

It happened in the blink of an eye, in the space between one second and another. One moment, you were sitting on a cot, and the next, you were lying on your back, every part of your body aching, a dozen things sprained and another hundred bruised, or cut, or ripped open and left to bleed. You forced yourself to open your eyes, but it was pointless - the world around you was grey and brown and nothing. Dust and debris polluted the air, clouding it beyond recognition, and if there was anything salvageable left of the first floor, you wouldn’t have been able to tell, much less do something with whatever you found. The fall couldn’t have been very far, but the ground was unforgiving, and everything hurt. It was all you could do to push yourself to your feet, your legs threatening to buckle under your own weight. You pulled yourself through a step, then another before you realized what was wrong.

You could stand.

You could walk.

Blearily, you focused on the shackle around your ankle, the thing that should’ve been keeping you bound to the cot now buried under a pile of rubble twice as tall as you were. The metallic circlet was still there, only slightly scoffed, but when you followed the short chain, the only thing it led back to was a pole, one leg of the makeshift bed you’d become so acquainted with. You almost left it there. Right now, you were more focused on finding an exit and getting out than celebrating such a convenient victory, but a low moaning tore your attention towards another mangled form before you could stagger away. A mass of black fabric, a white shirt soaked through with something dark and rusty. Hair, darker than it should’ve been, and just as tangled as it usually was.

Izuku. Injured and beaten, but unquestionably Izuku. For a moment, you thought he was dead, but a guttural cough tore you away from that daydream. He didn’t move, but his eyes flickered open, finding you among the ruins. It almost seemed like he would smile, like he would laugh and call his henchmen and you’d be recaptured before you could get so much as a breath of fresh air. You could hear fighting in the distance, yelling from heroes and villains alike, but they weren’t here, not yet. Izuku could still do something crafty and clever and evil, and you’d have to pay for it.

You’d be the victim again, and he’d come out on top.

By the time you made up your mind, your hand was already closing around the pole, the metal heavy in your fist. Izuku watched you silently, only forcing something out as you came to stand over him.

“You’d be better off with me,” He spat, his voice raspy, feeble. “If you go running back into his arms, into his world, you’ll regret it.”

You were tempted to listen. You might’ve, but you couldn’t. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself, if you did.

It wasn’t like he’d ever stopped to listen to you, after all.

You were only returning the favor.

You didn’t remember passing out.

You didn’t remember it, but you must’ve, because the next time you woke up, you weren’t in the debris of Izuku’s hideout, anymore - you didn’t seem to be anywhere. The lights were blinding for a second, fospheresent and white and searing, but the onslaught retreated as quickly as it attacked, disappearing completely as you remembered how to blink. If your body hurt before, it was even worse now, but the pain was at a distance, forced back by a translucent liquid and a handful of needles pumping the substance into your bloodstream, one drop at a time. You were tempted to rip them out, if only as a learned instinct, but a glance around the room revealed that you were in a medical bed, not on a cot, that the walls around you were white and speckled with dark blues and greens, rather that the dull grey you’d grown used to. It was a silent relief, not unexpected but certainly not unappreciated, the type that made you want to fall into the stiff mattress and sleep until you got used to the feeling of being able to, but you had a reason to stay awake. You had a reason to want to be awake.

Because someone was holding your hand.

Because Katsuki was holding your hand.

He was slumped against the arm of a sterile, poorly cushioned chair, his eyes nearly closed. He must’ve been here for a while - he was still wearing the essentials of his costume, but his mask had been discarded, as had his belt and his gauntlets, anything he didn’t need to sit by your bedside and fret over you. He looked exhausted, but he perked up as your fingers intertwined with his, a small smile spreading across his lips as he scanned over you.

His voice was raspy, obscure by sleep, but his tone was light, affectionate. You were thankful. That was all you needed him to be. “You took your fucking time.”

“So did you.” You might hold it against him, later on, but right now, you just wanted to settle onto your side and grin as Katsuki’s expression softened into something apologetic. “How long was I--”

“A little more than a day.” He must’ve gone over that a thousand times before you woke up. He wasn’t eager, but the speech was rehearsed, practiced, just bordering on scripted. “It’s just a minor concussion and a few fractures. Taking out Deku’s hideout was riskier than it should’ve been, but we couldn’t think of another way to separate him from his lackeys without putting civilians at risk. By the time we handled his lap dogs, you’d already collapsed.”

You hesitated, but you forced yourself to ask. You needed to know he wouldn’t come crawling back. You needed to know you hadn’t fallen to his level for nothing. “And Midoriya?”

“Died in the crash, as far as anyone can tell.” Katsuki took a deep breath, just a hint of regret finding its way into his disposition. It didn’t last long, though, dispelled with an heavy sigh. “It’s for the best. The sooner that motherfucker’s wiped off the face of the planet, the better. I was just hoping it wouldn’t be so…” He trailed off, running his free hand through his hair. “Would you believe me if I said I still thought he might not be so… fucked up, once we got him back?”

You wouldn’t. You’d spent weeks under Izuku’s thumb, tripping over yourself to keep him happy with you, spending every waking moment trying to please a sociopath, but that didn’t change the fact that he used to be Katsuki’s friend, that they’d grown up together, and that it’d been Katsuki’s fault they grew apart. You couldn’t answer, not in a way that would soothe his lingering doubts, But, he didn’t seem to need you to. Before you could think of something to say, he was already shrugging it off, shaking his head as he turned towards you. “I can’t keep focusing on shit like that, though. You’re back, and you’re safe, and that’s all that matters to me.”

You let yourself relax, melting into your pillow as Katsuki bent over the side of your bed, pushing a light, delicate kiss into your temple. “I’m just glad I got out of there,” You admitted. Katsuki only nodded in acknowledgement, nimble fingers beginning to comb through your disheveled hair. “I can’t wait to see everyone again, it feels like years since I’ve talked to someone besides Midoriya. Mina’s going to smother me, and Denki -- Wait, do you think I still have a job? They can’t fire me for getting abducted, right?”

You felt Katsuki stiffen. It took him a second to respond, just long enough to let you know something was wrong. “I… I don’t think you should head back to work, just yet.”

“Well, yeah, I’m still in a hospital gown,” You laughed, attempting to ignore his sudden seriousness. “But eventually, I’ll have to--”

“I don’t think you should go back at all.” If he was reluctant before, he’d gotten over it. Reflexively, you pushed yourself up, your arms shaking under the strain, but Katsuki was quick to backtrack, to flinch away and curse under his breath, cupping your cheek as he urged you to hear him out. “I know you’re probably dyin’ for things to go back to the way they used to be, and I know I’m being selfish, but… You were kidnapped, (Y/n), by a villain. Deku was the worst ‘em, but he wasn’t the only one. There’s probably hundreds of-- thousands of people out there who’d be willing to rip your heart out, if it means getting back to me. I don’t know if it’d be able to take it, if you wanted to risk that. I don’t know if it’d be able to let you risk that. I...” He forced himself to stop, to take a steading breath. “I just want to keep you safe. I need you to let me keep you safe.”

Huh.

It hurt a lot less than you thought it would.

It was the numbing sort of shock, a cold wave of a scenario you’d imagined (albeit, one you’d never liked) plenty of times coming to fruition. Part of you thought Katsuki might burst out laughing, that he might be joking, but Katsuki didn’t move to back down, didn’t move to do anything but stare. It made sense. He hadn’t known if you were dead or alive for a month, and Katsuki was the type to get nervous when you went more than a day without seeing him in person. He’d probably been worried sick. He’d probably been pulling his own hair out. He’d probably been… What was it Izuku said, when he was first warning you about Katsuki?

He’d probably been ready to lock you away somewhere so deep and somewhere so dark, you’d be lucky to ever see sunlight again. As long as it meant you were protected.

That didn’t mean you wanted to be locked away, though.

It was all you could do to keep your voice from shaking. You didn’t want Katsuki to lie to you just because he thought you might start crying, if he didn’t. “What happens if I don’t let you?”

He could only frown, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing over your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you, angel.”

He didn’t want to. He’d never want to. Even if he did, even if he didn’t regret it, he’d never want to.

That already made him better than Izuku.

The slow, muted beat of the heart-monitor began to race as you leaped towards Katsuki, nearly falling off of your bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him against you burying your face in his chest, allowing Katsuki to tentatively pull you closer, too. You could’ve called for a nurse. You could’ve screamed. You could’ve done something to put yourself at arm’s length from anyone who wanted to keep you cornered and caged, but you didn’t want to do something, you couldn’t want that. You loved Katsuki. You loved him, and you’d missed him, and the only thing you wanted to do was fall into his arms and let him take care of you, regardless of how paranoid he’d gotten. You just wanted to know he’d be there, if someone like Izuku ever came after you again.

Everything else was a small price to pay, if he could just give you that.

“Please.” You didn’t try to hide your vulnerability, anymore, you didn’t try to hide anything. Tears were already clouding your vision, something jagged and tight burrowing into the back of your throat with every word, every painful thought. Katsuki moved to speak, to comfort you, but you didn’t let him. You didn’t want to be comforted.

You just wanted to feel safe.

"I just want to go home.”

274 notes · View notes

inae-dirri-man · 3 years

Text

DSMP S2 FINALE

I couldn’t sleep cuz of it so hear me out. I’m writing this while still riding the hype!

YOU BAFOONS!YOU IDIOTS! YOU THINK THIS IS OVER?! Who do you think this is they’re dealing with?! This is Dream! The literal god of the server! The puppet master the one pulling the strings! You think he doesn’t have a plan? You think he’s not 5 steps ahead of you?

-Punz and Dream had a plan where Dream specifically told him to betray him!

-Sam is the person Dream payed to build it!

-Techno still owes him a favor!

-Sapnap is Dream’s oldest friend

And don’t get me started on the hypocrisy of the people!

They put Dream in prison but Wilbur and Schlatt get to roam free? Wilbur blew up L’manburg. Schlatt exiled Tommy and Wilbur, traumatized Tubb, started a war, broke friendships and families apart...but Dream is the bad guy??? Don’t get me wrong! What he did was awful and shouldn’t have happened EVER! But EVERYONE did awful things on the server for different reasons! People just love to point fingers at Dream and say that without him there’s no conflict but that’s wrong and stupid!

PUTTING DREAM IN A PRISON WAS WRONG

Let me show how I see Dream’s perspective of this.

The server started WITH the Dream team FOR the Dream team and their friends to enjoy the game. Then Tommy shows up and starts the disk war and the fighting. Now it was all for fun no harm done they’re still friends! Dream is still SANE! Then the L’manburg war starts! Why? Because Dream said the rules and Tommy and Wil broke them. By the logic everyone who supports Dream being in a prison, they should be punished. But they weren’t! Dream TOLD them “Hey don’t do drugs, please!” and they started a fucking nation! Dream felt like he was losing his friends so he went to war to try and get them back, but he lost, even tho he got the disks he lost. From the beginning it was never about the disks for him, he was willing to give them up for Spirit (his dead horse) because he had an attachment! But somewhere along the way, probably the whole POG/SWAG war he lost the attachments, he lost his sanity! Remember the early days? Where Tommy, Tubbo and Dream fought for the disks? Where Skeppy got Spirit and Dream literally didn’t care how Tommy felt about the disks he wanted his horse back? Remember how it was all fun and games? Well it’s not anymore. Dream went INSANE! He didn’t want power when the server started, he wanted peace. But somewhere along the line his perspective changed and it’s easy to see how broken the leader of the SMP actually is. Just rewatch the scene where he yells at Tommy but LISTEN to it! Hear it! It’s not the same is it? In his mind attachments are what’s solving him down. And in a way they are, I’ll have to agree a little, but they also aren’t. Relationships are extremely complicated, because humans are too! Tommy LOVES to throw word psychopath at Dream but according to the DSM 5 he’s not... Psychopathy is a VERY COMLICATED mental illness and to normal people it’s hard to spot! They blend with the background and work from the shadows. Dream LOVES to be the center of attention so that’s one thing that is stopping people from calling him one. The other would be the simple criteria of a person with ASPD which is:

A pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others, since age 15 years, as indicated by three (or more) of the following:

The individual is at least age 18 years.

Evidence of conduct disorder typically with onset before age 15 years.

The occurrence of antisocial behavior is not exclusively during schizophrenia or bipolar disorder."

Failure to conform to social norms concerning lawful behaviors, such as performing acts that are grounds for arrest.

Deceitfulness, repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for pleasure or personal profit.

Impulsivity or failure to plan.

Irritability and aggressiveness, often with physical fights or assaults.

Reckless disregard for the safety of self or others.

Consistent irresponsibility, failure to sustain consistent work behavior, or honor monetary obligations.

Lack of remorse, being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another person.

Now for those who don’t wanna read this or don’t understand let me put it simply Dream by the simple definition isn’t a psychopath. Tommy just throws the word around and people go along because they don’t know better. Simply putting it psychopaths are BORN, NOT MADE! Someone who is made a psychopaths is NOT a psychopaths because it can be “reversed”.

What I’m trying to say is while I am happy that Tommy and Tubbo aren’t dead I am not happy with the outcome for Dream (I love the memes tho), mostly because they just put a mentally unstable person in prison. This isn’t going end well, for anyone. It’s going to end with Dream either COMPLITELY losing it to the point where he’s going to destroy everything or destroy HIMSELF or he’s going to kill the ENITRE server. None of these options are good! Now is what he did ok? ABSOLOUTLY NOT! EVER! Should they have put him in there? NO! They could have solved the Dream problem SO much easier! For example having someone watch over him at all times but not in prison! A prison should be a place for rehabilitation, which let’s be honest....not gonna happen’! Anything other than what they did! This is EXACTLY why I love this roleplay! It’s COMPLICATED! EVERYONE is the bad guy while at the same time being the victim of government, themselves or others! There’s no good or bad, black or white, everything is SMUGED, hard to see and recognize! NOTHING is clear. It shows that real life is complicated, hard, hard to see thru! And the actors are AMAZINGLY showing every emotion and thought! I CAN’T WAIT FOR SEASON 3! And remember this is all roleplay don’t get too invested like me! (It’s not healthy!) Time to get the sleep that I missed just for this shit!

#dream smp #dsmp #technoblade #punz #tommyinnit #dream #awsomedude #tubbo #wilbur soot #jchlatt #am i doing tis right #this isn't even the quarter of the essay i wrote #i love the finale #yes #this is why i didn't upload anything do not question me mortal

36 notes · View notes

k-writer1998 · 3 years

Text

Who Said Love Was Easy (3/12)

There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 2.1k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer lectures, design deadlines and no focus because of that brat. It’s been three years, they shouldn’t have this effect on me anymore… Even if I tell myself that, that woman has such a strong oppressive energy. I always feel like I’m suffocating. Ugh just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. Needing a change of pace I decided to walk to the pub to wait for Changbin. The bustle of the city was a comforting white noise to drown out my thoughts since I really needed to just… not think for a bit. That is, until I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand. With this new sense of anxiety I finally noticed the black car, not so subtly, following me. Luckily the street the pub was on was too narrow for cars and it was entering my line of sight. I checked my phone reflection as a man got out and of course it would be him. Picking up my pace to get away did nothing as he still caught me and forced me to turn around, keeping a hold on my wrist.

“Why are you running away from me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because some random car was following me, a girl who is alone, for over five minutes?” I reply sarcastically.

“I’ve been calling you but you weren’t answering.”

“Call? I probably blocked your number. Look, I’m not interested in pretending to rekindle some broken bond.”

“Y/n… don’t be like this you know I-”

“Don’t pull the remorseful brother act, Youngho-oppa. If you really cared you would have looked for me after I left,” I spat.

Unlike his sister Younghee who openly showed her indifference, not hearing from him was worse than being thrown out. Youngho was the only one in the entire family that showed me a smidge of kindness, let alone acknowledging my presence when no one else did. It wasn’t until a year after being kicked out did I learn I was nothing more than a stray puppy he played with cause he was bored.

“Don’t be like this y/n. Mom hasn’t been in the right state of mind since dad died. She didn’t mean to hurt you and she’s trying to make it up to you,” he coaxed, pulling me in to stop the wandering ears from hearing.

“That’s a load of shit and you know it. That woman never liked me the minute I was brought in and she made sure everyone but dad knew that. Will she give back the shares to dad’s company that are rightfully mine?”

His eyebrow twitched and I caught the crack in his facade. Every single one of them are selfish creatures and they will never betray their true nature, a fact I learned the hard way and will not underestimate again.

“Y/n things are sensitive now as is, you can’t just ask for something like that. Why would you want something like those? Aren’t you studying design?”

“Wow, someone did their research. If design doesn’t work I should at least have the shares to give me some support. It was a decent portion wasn’t it?” I pushed.

“Stop acting like a child there are bigger things going on so just cooperate. The faster you do the less we have to see each other. Do you think I have time to chase you around like this?”

And his true color shows. By now his hold on my arm had turned into a vice grip and it hurt like hell but I couldn’t show weakness now, they don’t get to win after everything.

“Ha… I can’t believe I waited six months to hear from you like you actually cared. Sometimes you really are worse than your mother.”

My head snapped to the side in an instant and it was numb for a moment before the stinging settled in. I knew something of this caliber would happen… for his own reasons he hated his mother. Who knew it would tick him off that much? Before either of us could come back from the shock, a hand broke the hold on my wrist and my line of sight was covered by someone’s back. The mystery person shielded me from my brother and I immediately recognized the ring on their pinky. Should I be glad or panicked that Jeongin’s here?

“Sorry I’m late, is this person bothering you?”

“Oh? Is this your boyfriend?” Youngho smirked, eyeing him up and down.

“No.” I roll my eyes, trying my best to mask my unease. Jeongin doesn’t need to be dragged into my family drama. I tug at his hand lightly and he turned to look back at me, “Come on, we’re late meeting the others. This conversation is over anyways.”

Once in front of the pub, Jeongin turned to examine my face. Seeing such concern in his eyes I couldn’t stop the surge of emotion that came over me as tears started to fall.

“Are you okay?! You must’ve been scared…” he panicked and I shook my head.

“Thank you,” I sniffed.

“You still got hit… I can’t believe-”

“It’s whatever.” This was not the first time someone from that family raised their hand to me, I expected nothing less… and I did purposefully push his buttons. “I deserved it. I provoked him.”

In an instant my gaze that was trained on the ground was forced to meet his piercing eyes by the gentle force of his hand nudging my chin. He had leaned in so that we were eye level and my brain nearly short circuited at his close proximity. Well that’s one way to stop tears.

“It doesn’t matter if you provoked him, that shouldn’t have happened y/n. No one deserves that, do you understand?”

It surprised me how serious he was about this. I don’t know if it was the butterflies from how close he was or the unsettling feeling of being… perceived, but I couldn’t think. Instead I numbly nodded, my eyes never leaving his as if under a spell. The corner of his lips quirked up at my response before he ushered me into the pub and sat me in my usual seat. He tossed a bag to Chan, that I hadn’t noticed he had, before disappearing to the back. Jeongin re-emerged with some ice and placed it on my face causing me to wince a bit. Taking it from his hands, he reached for my arm but I instinctively pulled away.

“Is your arm okay?”

“It’s fine. Probably slightly bruised at most but nothing serious.”

He eyed me suspiciously but before he could say anything Jaehyung barged over, worry written all over his face.

“Y/n! What happened?!”

“It’s nothing,” I smiled. He immediately whirled on Jeongin and gave him a pointed look.

“I caught some guy bothering her when I was out buying Chan-hyung some Advil and he… slapped her,” he responded guiltily.

I don’t know if I should admire or be annoyed by his honesty. I tiredly rubbed my forehead, already feeling the anger rolling off of Jaehyung.

“Don’t feel guilty Jeongin,” I smiled before turning to Jaehyung. “Thanks for getting mad for me but it’s not worth it Jaehyung-oppa.”

“Was it your fam-”

“Yes,” I cut him off, but that was more than enough for Jeongin to put the pieces together. Not wanting to hear anything from either of them I add, “I’m fine, really. Plus Changbin is coming so don’t worry okay?”

“Not worry? You usually end up home drunk and always make bad decisions with him.”

“Ninety-six percent of the time it’s me, bad decisions help relieve stress you know,” I smile like a child trying not to get in trouble.

Jaehyung ruffled my hair with a resigned sigh before telling me not to come home too drunk and went off. Jeongin kept me company but I had to ignore his eyes that were filled with questions I didn’t want to answer. Luckily Changbin came soon after but his eyes zeroed in on my cheek and was ready to square up with Jeongin before I intervened.

"Nope. I'll explain later, let's go." I gave him no time to argue as I waved Jeongin goodbye and sped to the door.

Knowing that I’ve come from a deprived childhood, Changbin’s lenient with me and my impulses. That being said, tonight is a total bust. Instead of somewhere fun, we’re at some restaurant because as Changbin puts it, he needs to “gage my recklessness” since I “act up more” when my family is involved.

“I ordered some food… and alcohol since I promised to take you out to have fun but before that, what the hell happened? Who hit you? Wh-”

“Are you going to keep going or do you actually want me to answer the questions?”

“Obviously answer them you smart ass. ”

“Long story short it was Youngho and the guy from the pub basically saved me more or less.”

His eyes softened at the mention of my brother. The first six months I was kicked out I stayed with Changbin until Hyorin, my mom's best friend who had been acting like an actual guardian for me since my dad died, helped me find an affordable place. He’s the one who saw the emotional toll it took when the one person I believed to be on my side threw me away.

“I would’ve thought he would be too busy with company stuff to come out, especially since he is under a microscope right now with the chairman’s health issues and all.”

“That’s why wicked stepmother and her children are on my tail. They’re trying to exploit our relationship, tied by nothing more than my father’s blood, to try to win grandma over cause she is fond of me and has a big share.” I ran an annoyed hand through my hair before whining, “so can we go clubbing?”

“Yeah… no. I’ll be having to pry off some guy from trying to take you home because you’re wasted.”

“No. That only happened like… four? times…”

“Four times too many. But drink your fill here and let Mr. Neighbor know that you’re staying at mine. If I bring you home drop dead drunk again I think he would actually kill me.”

“You’re probably right,” I laugh before shooting a quick text to Jaehyung. Once I put my phone down, the waitress came in with our order and I pointed at Changbin, “no talking about the unholy trinity or I’m leaving to go be unsupervised.”

“Yes, yes. I spoil you too much,” he sighs before adding, “how is the chairman anyways?”

“Grandpa still wants to believe I don’t exist and last I heard from grandma was that his heart isn’t in good health. It’s hard to treat when they’re trying to hide it from the company. Everyone knows he’s sick but not how bad,” I respond flatly.

“... Okay one question and I’ll stop. Who are the other runner ups other than… you know who?”

I downed my second shot in annoyance. Changbin and Jaehyung could be good friends if they let it happen, they’re both so nosy… I could care less about company drama though so I tell him. Not like I’ll get in trouble.

“I- Are you asking me to leave?”

“Oh come on, if they’re this desperate that means there are other strong candidates right?”

“Fine.” I glare, shoving some food in my mouth before answering, “They’re looking into my cousin Wooin and a long-term director Jihyo. They have high performance with successful big projects under their belt in addition to having the favor of various important people.”

“Okay, so what’s this about finding Loverboy? It’s been what? A year with no contact?”

“Of course I do. That was the first time I formed a fat crush on a guy I just met,” I roll my eyes. “It’s the guy you wanted to beat up, Jeongin. It’s been a few months but he’s been working at Jaehyung’s pub.”

I don’t know if it was the alcohol doing its job but I started to get sentimental as I thought back to our first meeting. That night was during a relatively low point in my life and I was losing touch with the world around me, but he was the first thing I found interest in after a long time. As if my brain wanted to torture me, the image of his face mere inches from mine popped back into my mind.

“Did something already happen?! Your face is red!”

“Shut up. He still has a girl he likes so no.”

“Still?” Changbin whistles in surprise, “That’s what I call devotion. Does he remember you?”

“Nope. To make matters… interesting, she works there too and has a crush on Jaehyung-oppa.”

“Wait that cute new waitress? On that old man? And I thought you had problems,” he laughs.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz imagines #skz au #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin au #server! jeongin x regular! y/n #my writing #wslwe?

7 notes · View notes

fanaticalthings · 4 years

Text

Dance With Me

AO3 Link

Destiel 15x09 Coda

It’s over.

They’d defeated God himself. They were free at last— free to be whoever they wanted to be— free to do whatever.

Sam seems content, and so does Cas. And for a split second, everything felt fine.

But Dean knew better than to believe everything was alright.

Chuck was gone, but there was now another problem that needed dealing with— the Mark.

Dean should’ve stopped him. He knew he should have. But deep down, he felt a disgusting amount of relief at the thought that he would not have to bear the Mark of Cain again.

Dean’s sitting in the kitchen with a glass of whiskey in hand when Cas walks in.

He looks tired, but when his eyes land on Dean, they soften.

“Are you doing okay?” Cas says.

Dean almost wants to laugh, but all he manages is a weak grimace. He knew firsthand what the Mark did to you— how it twisted you into someone you weren’t. Cas shouldn’t have been worried about Dean. He should have been worried about himself.

Cas must notice Dean’s inner turmoil because he grabs the chair next to Dean and sits down.

“I think I should be the one asking you that, buddy,” Dean says.

Cas looks at Dean with so much affection that it hurts. Dean doesn’t deserve those looks.

“Please don’t blame yourself for this, Dean. I chose to bear the Mark and I would do it again if it meant you never had to suffer its effects again,” Cas says this with so much certainty that it scares Dean.

This angel was willing to sacrifice so much for him. Falling from heaven, killing his own brethren, rebelling against the one thing he was made to serve and all for what? For one human?

It makes Dean realize how stupid he was for taking Cas for granted all those years.

“Cas, I’m scared.”

Dean feels vulnerable expressing his feelings so freely with Cas, but after everything that’s happened in purgatory, he realizes that it’s time to suck it up and stop running away from his emotions. He may not get any more moments like this with Cas in the future.

“I know,” Cas says. He doesn’t reassure Dean.

Deep down Dean was hoping the Mark wouldn’t affect Cas like it did for himself. He hoped desperately that maybe Cas’ grace would help him.

He knew better than to believe that.

The thought of Cas turning into a blood-thirsty killer makes his stomach churn. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They’d gotten rid of Chuck, they should’ve gotten their happy ending, they shouldn’t be dealing with more problems, they shouldn’t-

“Dean,” Cas says softly. His eyes convey an infinite amount of sadness.

He intertwines his fingers with Dean’s as if to let him know he’s still there— that he won’t leave.

“We’ll look for something, Cas,” he says. “Maybe we could find a cure this time.”

Cas looks unconvinced, and frankly, Dean feels pretty unconvinced too.

They’d tried so hard to find a solution before— back when Dean was the bearer of the Mark. Chances are if they tried looking again, the results would be the same.

Cas’ grip tightens around his hand.

“Dean, if I start turning, promise me you’ll stop me. Do whatever it takes to stop me.”

Dean’s heart starts to clench in pain. He avoids looking into Cas’ eyes.

“Please,” Cas almost whispers. “Don’t let me become a monster.”

Dean drinks the rest of his whiskey and chances a glance at Cas. He seems eerily calm— like he’s already accepted what’s to come.

But Dean would do whatever it takes to keep Cas with him. He’ll try his damn hardest to fix Cas before giving up. At the moment, though, he can only reassure.

“Ok,” Dean reluctantly relents. “I promise.”

Cas offers him a small smile, but Dean doesn’t feel any better.

“Just-” Dean begins. “Just…Stay with me…For a little while longer.”

Blue eyes meet his, and Cas leans in closer.

“Of course, Dean.”

~~~~~~

It’s not okay.

Dean desperately clung to the hope that the Mark wouldn’t affect Cas— wouldn’t take him. But it was clearly hopeless.

He’d spent months looking for a possible cure. Nothing.

Little by little, Dean could see Cas’ sanity slip through the cracks.

He wanted to brush it off at first—play it off as just Cas getting restless from always being cooped up in the bunker.

But Cas would only get worse.

It was just small incidents in the beginning— Cas impulsively smiting a vamp they were interrogating— Cas recklessly running into a werewolf nest.

Dean hoped it was just simple frustration and impatience after the monsters started increasing in numbers.

It wasn’t. Dean knew and so did Cas.

It was the last straw when Cas nearly killed a group of high school girls, claiming that they were in the way of solving the case.

When they returned to the bunker, Cas took Dean aside.

“It’s changing me,” he says. Even now, those blue eyes don’t look like they belong to Cas. They look remorseful, but they hold a murderous intent.

“Cas-”

“You have to stop me.”

Dean didn’t want it to have to come to this. It was all he really had left— clinging to a fraying string of false hope to keep him going.

“You have to stop me,” Cas pauses “or I’ll end up killing you.”

Cas says it with so much conviction— so much confidence.

Dean believes him.

“I don’t wanna lose you, Cas. Please,” Dean whispers.

The space between them lessens, as Cas grabs Dean’s hand.

“You know what you have to do.”

Dean knows. He’s known what he’s had to do from the very moment Cas took on the Mark. He knows, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. He doesn’t want to accept that he’s losing a bit of Cas every day. They can’t lose this battle.

“You can’t go dark side on me, Cas. Not yet.”

Dean drops his head to lean on Cas’ chest. He can hear the faint heartbeats of the angel. It grounds him. It makes him remember that they’re real— that Cas is still here with him— that he hadn’t flown away with his invisible wings just yet.

“Just…Please….Stay with me, for a little while longer,” Dean pleads.

Cas, ever loyal, stays with him.

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean knows what he has to do. He has to lock Cas away. He has to build a ma'lak box.

——-

On rare days, Cas is able to fight the mark and stay himself but even those days are dwindling. Dean doesn’t know how much longer he can stall.

He’d finished building the ma'lak box some time ago. But Dean was selfish. He didn’t want Cas to leave just yet. He didn’t want Cas to leave at all. But Cas grows more restless, more angry, more dangerous.

Dean doesn’t know how much time he has left with him. Not much left, that’s for sure. He’s so frustrated that he sometimes takes it out on Sam. They fight about the Mark. About how there is no cure, about how this is going to end. But Dean is tired, and the fight leaves him as quickly as it had arrived.

The worst almost happens. Cas nearly kills Sam during a case in Illinois. They were investigating a series of bizarre murders. It started off normal. Well, as normal as things could get in their lives. But one disagreement from Sam sends Cas flying off the edge in a blind rage. It happens so quickly in front of Dean that he doesn’t react fast enough. Cas has got Sam pinned beneath him in a stranglehold.

Dean pleads for him to stop, yells for Cas to snap out of it. But Cas doesn’t listen. And Dean believes he would’ve gone through with it, had Dean not reached out to touch Cas’ shoulder.

In a swift movement, they’re face to face. Cas’ eyes suddenly soften, but only for a brief second before they widen in terror. He looks down at Sam and frantically backs away from the brothers.

“I’m sorry,” he simply states in a broken voice before disappearing.

They finish the case without him.

——–

Once Dean patches Sam up, he goes to his room to turn in for the night. They don’t talk about what happened.

He doesn’t feel like sleeping. Hell, he hasn’t been sleeping much at all lately.

Instead, Dean sits on his bed and prays. Prays to Cas.

“Cas, I don’t know how much longer I’ve got with you, man, but please…please come back. Come back home. I need to know you’re alright. I need to know that you’re still you.”

A pregnant silence fills the room, and Dean almost believes that Cas won’t show up, until he hears the familiar beat of wings.

Cas stands in front of him. But he doesn’t look okay.

The angel in front of him looks so lost, so broken.

“Dean,” Cas speaks quietly.

Dean stands up and reaches forward to pull him into a tight embrace. Cas barely hugs back.

“I can’t stop it anymore,” Cas relents.

His once vibrant blue eyes now reveal a lack of motivation. They show that the man behind those eyes had given up. They both know they aren’t winning this battle.

“Do it now, Dean. While I’m still myself.”

Dean feels tears start to trail down his cheek. He clings to Cas tightly, but Cas pulls away.

“You have to, Dean. Lock me away. Send me to the ocean.”

Dean wants to scream at him, to lash out and blame Cas for not trying hard enough to fight the Mark, but it’s hopeless. He knows it is. But that doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty. It should be him locked in the ma'lak box, it should be him dealing with the consequences. Not Cas, definitely not Cas.

Dean doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stands up and turns on the radio.

They let the hum of the music fill the silence of the room. Dean closes the space between them. Cas lets him.

“Dance with me,” Dean says.

Cas stares at him but must see the sadness in Dean’s eyes because he agrees without a fuss.

They intertwine their fingers and hold each other like it’s the last night on Earth. They don’t really dance. They just sway around, really. But for a moment, Dean can pretend that this was the happy ending they deserved. No more monsters, no more fighting, no more Mark. But those feelings quickly disappear when he feels the presence of the ma'lak box.

Realistically, it’s rooms away from them. But Dean can feel it’s weight burning holes through the walls and floors to remind him that it’s never over. It really hits Dean that this is it. End of the line for him and Cas. So he says the words he’s been meaning to say for so long now.

“I love you.”

It’s so quiet that Dean thinks Cas might not have heard him. But he does. He always does.

Cas looks right into Dean’s eyes and cups his face. He’s smiling sadly.

“I wish we could’ve done this under different circumstances,” Cas murmurs.

“Me too.”

All of a sudden, they’re kissing. It’s soft and gentle and full of unimaginable sorrow. Cas embraces Dean like he’s the most important thing in the world.

And he is in Cas’ eyes.

“I love you, too.”

Dean starts to sob. This can’t be happening.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Dean says, but there’s no venom in it— just hopelessness.

“I know,” Cas whispers back.

They continue to rock back and forth to the music. None of them wanting to admit what happens next.

“Stay with me, for a little while longer,” Dean chokes up.

Cas’ grip on him tightens.

“Of course, Dean.”

The radio drowns out the silence as a new song starts to play. They lament together.

I.. Can't….Help….Falling In Love…With…You….

They lose the battle.

159 notes · View notes

typewriterghcst · 3 years

Text

Title: When the Sun Leaves the Field Fandom: The Cat Returns Rating: uhhhhh let’s go with. like. PG or PG13ish for. Heavy Themes. speaking of— Warnings: I struggled with how to word this, and I hope I can still manage anyhow with making it clear— there are a lot of parallels with suicide in this story, so I would advise that if you are very sensitive to that subject, you might give this one a pass. Other than that, y. yeah, there’s heavy overarching themes of death all over the place. The notes paragraph will probably clear up what I mean Characters: Cat King, Natori, mentions of other characters Summary: It’s good to have someone at the end of the road. Notes: For this meme, and the prompt of ‘When I am dead’ with the added bonus of ‘if it makes it painful: one-sided. :)’ bc @madamhatter is a sadist jfjfkd;a Or. Maybe just an enabler. Either way I absolve myself of all responsibility with this one :v Tho for the record, this is using the weird manga-inspired verse I use on the ask blog, and I will actually apologize for that preemptively 9_9;;

&&&

They had begun their trek in the early morning (what passed for early morning), not under the cover of darkness but simple isolation. They had left early in the interest of privacy. Of concern and long-lived affection. No one needed to know yet.

They stop for a meal in the Finch Kingdom. Natori thinks they must look quite a pair for those who are too young to recognize them, Claudius slouching languidly with one foot hooked against the table to tip his chair back and Natori himself sitting prim and timid with his feet gathered up beneath him and paws folded demurely on the table.

“...do you remember when we first met?” Claudius eventually asks, and it feels so sudden it takes Natori a long minute to register it. And by the time it does, that ever-present gnawing guilt has settled into its usual spot before its accompanying source’s arrival.

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “You know I don’t.”

To that, Claudius doesn’t respond for some time, staring out at the mellow passersby and combing absently at his mustache, an idle habit he’s never been able to totally shake.

Finally, Natori speaks up again, gentle, low. “How was our first meeting, Claudius..?”

His companion gives a pensive noise or two, still absently worrying at a handful of long fur before his mind seems to come back to him. “Feels kinda weird to relay the story to someone who was there, babe.”

“Well, pretend I’m someone else, then.” A light, almost playful piece of advice, but one which seems to loosen Claudius' tongue.

"Don't really want someone else, though.”

"That's sweet of you."

"Heh. I'm always sweet, babe."

"Some of your courtiers might be inclined to say otherwise."

"Bah, what do they know."

Natori laughs. "Not enough, I suppose."

They lapse into another silence, then, lost in the murmuring chatter of the residents of the Finch Kingdom going about their day. Natori is just on the verge of politely asking when they might leave.

"It was a disaster. I made an ass of myself."

"Oh, it couldn't have been that bad." Spoken affectionately, but with perhaps a knowing edge.

"It could and it was," Claudius persists. “I'd seen you over and over again, always trailing after the queen. I could tell you weren't royalty, an' I made a… an assumption."

Somewhere, Natori is beset by both a distant humiliation and the fervent wish that he might remember more, that this description, vague as it is, might be just the trigger to jog his unreliable memory. Alas, the vague but deeply-rooted embarrassment is all that arises.

“You thought I was a companion of a certain, ah, character.”

“Oh, so you do remember, you fibber.”

Natori laughs again. “That was only the logical conclusion.”

“I know.” Claudius’ chair comes finally crashing down with a thunderous clap, and he’s unfazed by the curious glances and annoyed frowns the action brings the two of them. Natori rather oddly feels no compulsion to direct apologetic smiles or other motions to their fellow diners, either.

“Guess we should get a move on.”

“Yes.”

They leave the Finch Kingdom behind, and start not for one of its neighboring kingdoms, but for the aimless, trackless space between them. Unusually, Claudius wordlessly trails after his advisor, trusting wholly in Natori's knowledge in a way he hasn't in quite some time.

“Has your mind changed?” Natori questions once, and even he himself can hear the veiled wish that his companion’s resolution might be faltering, despite his best efforts.

“How do you think Lune’s doing right now? You think he’s noticed we’re gone yet?”

“...I would be quite surprised if he hasn’t yet, yes.”

“It’s too bad, Natori. You know?”

“I know.”

“Just too bad,” Claudius continues to mumble under his breath.

Natori doesn’t answer.

“He’s going to be fine, though, you know? I think we prepared him pretty good, myself.”

“I’ll be keeping my eye on him for you,” is Natori’s subdued, faint reply, and it’s this time that Claudius finds himself unable to form a response, so much so that a thick silence settles heavily between them for a long moment. It isn’t lessened by Natori turning to survey him with measured uncertainty, either, and it seems to Claudius that they spend an inordinate eternity simply sharing this somber gaze, and gradually coming to an unspoken understanding.

Finally, when he can’t stand it anymore, he does look away with a restrained snort. There’s a lump in his throat that’s somewhat easily ignored, more so than the impossible to define tangle of emotions in his chest, at least.

“Still got it, babe. Sure know how to set an old cat’s mind at ease.”

The hesitant but affectionate smile Natori gives him is an oddly exquisite pain, too brittle and too honest; he almost wants to look away.

“Oh, I’m going to miss you,” the other cat murmurs in a manner which seems almost involuntary, and Claudius thinks it sounds something like a lovelorn admission of guilt. Or perhaps he only hopes.

“Well, who wouldn’t?” He declares.

“Who wouldn’t.” Natori echoes obligingly.

They walk for a long time. There comes a time when Claudius gets bored of it and sits, and Natori settles down beside him without comment or complaint.

“It’s a sorry place for a nap, babe,” Claudius remarks.

Natori’s response, Claudius realizes, is to lean into his shoulder with a contented noise, and it’s a show of comfort and affection that does not pass him by. The ex-king decides to return the favor, though he rather quickly finds lying across Natori’s lap a far more inviting position. Natori laughs.

“Intolerable, still, Claudius..?”

He waits a long moment to respond. He’d been bored, restless, not necessarily fatigued, but now he finds his eyelids are inexplicably heavy, and he doesn’t fight the urge to doze a little.

“...nah. I take it back.”

He can hear the fondness in Natori’s voice when he eventually replies. “Well. I’m always pleased to meet your expectations.”

It’s this muted emotion which stirs Claudius to let go of the remorse he’s been holding on to since they left. Since before they left. Perhaps he’s held it since they first met, humiliating wrong assumption regarding the cat’s position and all. Love at first sight. It’s a terribly impractical thing, but he’s nothing if he is not ruled by that kind of passion and impulsivity.

“I should have done it, babe. You know? When I first had the thought, when I first felt it, maybe even way back when Sephie left— I should have set you up beside me with a crown, too. Made it official and everything. Bet no one would have objected.” Or, more accurately, had they objected, they’d have most likely been in for a very long drop.

The faltering quirk to Natori’s muzzle makes his smile appear particularly rueful. “I’ve never wanted a crown of my own, Claudius.” Even in times long past when he’d been blessed with one in response to faint acquiescence alone.

“But you would have gone along with it anyway, wouldn’t you? If I had asked you to?”

The permissive (if inextricably reluctant) hum Natori uses to agree with him feels strangely comforting. Familiar. Claudius closes his eyes again.

“I would have,” Natori eventually murmurs. “If you had asked me to. But I was always most content where I was, ha. So, tell yourself nothing was wasted.”

“I’ll do that.”

It isn’t the admission of reciprocated sentiment he’d hoped for, and it stings, but he supposes it will do at the end of the world. When he leaves, he contents himself with a brushed kiss atop the head and the barest, lingering touch of their entwined paws.

Natori returns to the Carp Kingdom alone.

#the cat returns #this took me a weirdly long tim #time #thank you for the prompt tho!#i enjoyed writing it #despite everything #ha

4 notes · View notes