#You said it was free you bloody liars | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kit-williams · 2 months

Text

non Khorne canon

thank you @callme-cursed for inspiring me with this:

Khorne - Your father's astartes only got more temperamental with age. Small things seemed to become the greatest slight one could make against him. You left for your own safety quietly in the night. It was unfortunate to realize so late you were his favorite. Now he is on a war path to find you again.

And letting me write something that no matter how hard I tried just keeps turning lewd. I'm keeping him legion/chapter-less so that anyone can insert their favorite legion/chapter. (Since its lewd its why I'm tagging my usual people)

Normal taglist: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog @thevoidscreams

tw: dubious consent? maybe noncon? Can read either way I suppose but either way you're getting dicked down. Written in 1st person because I have a problem

I get a notification on my phone about a break in at my apartment and the pictures show your family's astartis breaking in and looking around most likely barking for your name. He had started to act odder and odder... getting angry and aggressive with everyone especially with everyone around myself... getting far too affectionate and starting to bring me home trophies. I decided to stay at my apartment more it's why it's there because I am a big girl... but he wanted me at home where he could watch me.

I decided it was time for one of my hiking trips. I call dad just telling him what he's done and just that I decided to take a hiking trip for a few weeks. I've been doing it since I was sixteen... and even then sure I'd be hiking with him. I swallow as I have to keep going to get to that dry spot as the rain picks up.

I'll probably take a different trail then I normally do to throw him off my trail but I'm certain dad can wrangle him in... he's always been a stubborn astartis but just him being a big bully and him... I don't even know what to call it? Online people called it courtship behaviors... others said it was just being overly affectionate and showing which person is their favorite... the internet was no help in dealing with his recent mood swings and it scared me.

Sure he was grumpy when I was younger but now he was getting straight up violent and it made me feel so unsafe even if it never was directed at me or the parents; I just had to get out of there so fast. I've always hated confrontation and just I was always a coward. It would be fine....

But it was not fine... I run my fingers through my long hair as I read the text in the morning... Dad: ... hasn't come home. He might be going to look for you. I close your flip phone as I quickly pack up my camp knowing I have less and less time to get to the trail split and if I'm lucky he'll just keep going looking for me and then go home.

It was always so pretty the morning after a rain... the way raindrops clung to leaves, to moss, hanging suspended in spider webs... just a breeze shaking those drops free from their perches giving me another mini shower under a canopy. But I didn't have time to enjoy the relaxing bit of nature as I headed quickly to the split and when I finally got there I made sure I didn't stop powerwalking down the path until lunch.

The rain was threatening to come back as I was upset at how much rain there seemed to be typical weather people lying... I hold my breath as I suddenly hear a humming as the forest goes quiet and I turn my head and see the bloody visage of him... the family astartis... freshly harvested skulls on his hip both animal and human. His breath comes out hot and heavy as he pants and I can see it in the air as he leans his head back just grinning like a madman to the sky as it suddenly unloads.

My legs get cuts as I sprint through the underbrush just running blindly as he calls my name rushing after me. My lungs burn as I run tempted to throw away my bag to run faster but he'd certainly use it as leverage if I do get away. I hear water as I realize I'm near that cute spot... with the little pond and the waterfall. I stop above the pond as the water is coming down... a jump into the water from this height would hurt, I would know the memory of me doing it one summer hike with him.

"Sweetheart..." He brays softly as he walks out of the woods looking at you as I stay near the edge of the rocks, "come on take a step away... you look so cold. I can help with that." I can hear the layered meaning in his voice no longer hiding it. I remember admitting it once that I had a small crush on him but that was when I was young and hormonal and crazy for anything man shaped. How he just laughed at that and found it cute... that was a decade ago it seems he's changed his mind on that.

"Just leave me alone." I say threatening to take another step back.

"Get over here now." He snarls and I nearly rush over to him in obedience but I just shake my head as he looks so angry at me it causes my eyes to water as I feel so scared.

He takes a step forward and I jump back and the look on his face is surprise before I know it he's right there jumping after me having to jump somewhere else to avoid crushing me. He wasn't the best swimmer so I think I have time... I think I have time... I crawl out of the water coughing slightly just taking a moment to rest my limbs. Its in that moment I feel a hand thread through my hair and grip my hair by the scalp.

I scream and claw his hand as its hard not to know who is dragging me by my hair given how his nails dig into my forehead causing me to bleed. The rain seems to drown my begging and screaming as he drags me to the "lovers cove". Rain hits a tarp hidden by leaves and vines as I remember finding this place as it was nice to camp here in the summer with the firepit roaring. Of course you couldn't stay here long having to explain to him why... because it was really only used for sex.

I'm too tired to move as jumping in my full gear was exhausting. I feel the flash of heat as he starts to pull on my clothes and I struggle as he snarls and fights me out of my soaking wet clothes. I'm trembling both from how wet and cold I am but also so afraid of being alone with him right now.

He seems to visibly relax as he pets my head and starts to dry my skin by rubbing a dry fur pelt against my flesh as he mutters and nuzzles my face just trilling as he continues to dry me off. His lips brushing against my cheek and temple as his thumb roughly swipes away my now flowing tears. Trying to calm me down as he rummages through my wet bag trying to heat up a ration for me. His eyes nervously darting over to me as if he is worried that I'll try to take off into the dark raining forest fully naked. I look over at him... the large two headed eagle tattoo on his back is still there though now holding what looks like a crown of thorns. It looks like a large back piece has been outlined in one of those chaos shapes... for Khorne you think.

He puts the ration in my lap and nuzzles me as he has me in his lap... and I realize he's naked too... I can feel his excitement against my back as he maneuvers my hand to pick up my spoon and I start to eat. I whimper and let out a soft sob as he hugs me tightly trying to soothe me. I rub my eyes as his hands move up and down my sides... trying to calm me down but it only riles me up and I try to move out of his lap.

His arms flex as he puts me in a headlock and his leg wraps around my own to keep me in place as he is snarling and barking at me in his tongue and I can't help but burst out into tears as he lets me go and I cower just afraid... I hate it when people yell at me... especially men... so loud so scary. He croons apologetically his body covering mind but then his breathing hitches as he starts to throb more as I realize his cock is against my sex... and to my horror... I'm not physically repulsed by the action.

I can't even say his name to try and stop him as he's already pulling your hips up as you manage to slip between his fingers to scramble away and he pounces on you. Your lungs hurt as you wheeze out the air feeling him rut against you licking the side of your head and you can't help but burst into tears as you moan out shamefully. You beg with a hiccupped sob for him to stop and he does... for a moment.

"Need... need to mark... need... need to keep." He hisses through clenched teeth. "No more separation... " He says before turning my head and shoving his tongue down my throat it feels. His fingers fumble against my sex before one slips so easily inside of me... roughly preparing me but there is not much to prepare... I'm so wet. "So sad... so helpless... " He moans into my neck pushing another finger into my sex as he does his best to prepare me for the burn of the stretch. He pulls his fingers out and shoves them into his own mouth tasting me. "Need me... need me to protect... I protect. Always protect." He says in stilted English as he pulls me off the ground before putting me on a shitty "bed" with a pelt he brought with him most likely thrown over it.

I try to beg for him to stop but he pushes his thumb against my tongue to stop me. He tilts my head up and I see several skulls around the bed. He practically purrs as I start shaking as they are all human skulls... some still stained red, "I protect... scared little sweetheart."

He says just hooking his hands under my knees tilting me up before sliding into me. He has to stop and close his eyes to not start pummeling his hips into mine but his pace is still just a bit to fast and little too hard and I can't help but cry up at him. But now I whimper and whine... he leans in and kisses me hard and passionately. I arch feeling the fur of the pelt against my back only leave ghosts of an impression on my skin... the skulls watching him fuck me hard are a ghost of a memory...I feel that pleasure course through my veins as he presses himself against me as deeply as he can as I orgasm and the clenching flesh around him causes him to spill over the edge.

We tumble over that edge as the rain picks up, lightning lights the forest, and thunder shakes the trees. Tears roll down my cheeks as he holds me close cooing at me. "Don't cry... I'm here... you're safe." He says between pants. Warmth is still spilling out between my legs and I feel confused about what's happened... but I feel so tired and will... I'll worry about it later. I sniffle softly and nod my head as I close my eyes and pass out feeling his warm body around my own and the fire... I'll deal with it all tomorrow.

#khornite #chaos space marine #space marine #non canon #non canon husbandry #warhammer 40k #inspired #mating press march #tw: dubious consent #tw: noncon

42 notes · View notes

kingsandbastardz · 3 months

Text

There was some sort of Sunday WIP thing that @randomingoftherandomness tagged me in but for the life of me, I can't find the post anymore. I'm just going to throw a piece of story on here as an incentive to continue writing lmao:

Mysterious Lotus Casebook: FangDi pairing in inception but not sure when I'll finish this because my brain's been mired in existential sadness and ghost stories and I haven't found anything fun enough to pull me out of that creative mode. As you can see, the tone of this thing is my 4am insomnia-drunk attempt at the romance genre. But... all I'm ending up with is goofy comedy.

Feel free to comment, but this is a first draft regurgitation, so keep that in mind.

------

Pear Blossoms In Spring

“Ah, this is the Iron Head Slave. Remember?” says Li Lianhua the Lying Liar gesturing to the tall, leggy beauty blocking their path. “His name is a-Fei.”

The iron head slave is still lying dead not too far behind them, his feet sticking out from under a bush -- but Fang Duobing isn’t about to argue. He is too busy feeling as if all the air is being sucked out of his lungs, causing his vision to narrow and the world to spark in bright white light. Is this what love at first sight feels like?

A-Fei sighs and stares off into the trees as Li Lianhua continues to babble. Fang Duobing doesn’t hear a word being said.

“—which is perfect, You’re taking Ge Pan to Baichuan Court, so I’ll be taking him to Pudu temple to find another old friend of his,” Li Lianhua says.

“You speak so much nonsense,” a-Fei mutters, his voice is grating and viperish - and dripping with a fascinating blend of resignation and arrogance. He turns on his heel and stalks away.

“So rude,” Fang Duobing says admiringly, entranced by the perky sway of a-Fei’s skirt as he strides down the path in front of them. Both Ge Pan and Li Lianhua look askance at him.

Fang Duobing loved wild, powerful animals. The more willful and temperamental the better. He'd grown up with needles stabbed deep into his meridians, the taste of copper blood and vomit on his tongue, and the acrid poison of immolated oil belched from the monstrous machines rolled out from his mother's workshop. Was it any wonder that the first thing his young fingers reached for would be the glimmering scales of a black python? Or the bloodied, silver fur of a chained, snarling wolf?

#mlc wip #writing practice #writing practice for fake royals #difang #fangdi #where fdb can't decide which animal to compare dfs to but whatever it is he likes it #i write both comedies and tragedies and in true cdrama fashion there's no telling which way this story will end up #my royal ramblings

13 notes · View notes

bakugotrashpanda · 2 years

Text

Two Truths and a Lie

Chapter 12: The Truth Will Set You Free

Bakugou x Fem!Reader

◈ Pro Hero, Fake Engagement ◈ Word Count: 2154

◇ Chapter Select

◇ Previous Chapter

!!: ….. angst(?)

Some much-needed closure.

Feet shuffle closer to the closed door. The roar of blood coursing through your body fills your ears. There’s no backing out. It opens silently.

Midoriya stares at you. He pushes a mop of unruly curls away from his forehead, the normally perfectly coiffed long top of his undercut is plastered to his head and messy from sleep. Neither of you move.

With all that time to prepare, every rehearsed speech goes out the window and you simply ask, “Why?”

Emerald eyes assess you from head to toe. He opens the door wider and nods. “You should come inside.” You’re left with little choice or room to protest when he walks away without a word. Reluctantly you cross the threshold. Closing the door, you lean against it and cross your arms. Midoriya putters around the modest kitchen and pours himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

“Why’d you do it?” you ask, and shake your head when he holds out an empty mug to you.

His brows furrow. “Which part?”

“All of it,” you sigh. “Me. Telling Ochako.” Midoriya gestures to the chairs at his kitchen table before taking a seat himself. Might as well…

Scarred fingers trace the edge of his cup. “Would you believe me if I said it was the right thing to do?”

“You’ve already proven that you’re a liar.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You’re still here for answers.” Taking a sip, he inhales deeply. You wait, though your patience runs thin. This is stupid. You could’ve let bygones be bygones.

When he finally speaks again, his voice starts out soft. Quiet. “You and I never would’ve been happy,” he admits. “I wouldn’t want anyone to know that we’re together-”

“Were you really that ashamed of me?” It shouldn’t hurt. Previous feelings for him have long since passed. But his words still sting.

“Not ashamed. No.” He shakes his head quickly, his curls flopping over his face again. “I… I couldn’t make you a target. People would want to hurt you to get to me.”

“And you would’ve saved me,” you cut in.

“Just like I saved All Might?” All these years and the death of his former mentor is still a thorn in his side. The bloody asterisks mark on his rise to the top. “Everything went to shit because of me. Lives were lost because of me. To be blunt, if I couldn’t save them, how could I save you?” Both hands grasp his mug. It seems small there. Exceedingly fragile. With just a small squeeze he could break it. So much strength, but still not strong enough to meet his own expectations.

“But Kacchan…” Midoriya’s voice trails off. You catch a flash of a sad smile. “He’s the real deal. I saw you two at the gala. I’ve never seen him that happy. I couldn’t tell until that night that it was real.”

You shake your head. “What happened to you?” This wasn’t the man you dated. The always positive, sunny man you fell in love with looks worn out and beaten down. Had his eyebags always been so dark?

“Ironically, I needed to stop lying to myself,” he smiles wistfully. “I’ve lost a lot to get to where I am; All Might. Gran Torino. Everyone who fought alongside me at the final battle and didn’t make it back. And… myself. I let fame get to my head, I suddenly had the title of Savior that I didn’t want. I started this to help people, to put smiles on faces, to make hearts lighter. But now look at me. Truth is, I don’t know who I am anymore.” He leans across the table and takes your hand in his own. They’re warmer than usual, probably from holding the coffee. “I never got a chance to apologize, but I am sorry for what happened between us.”

You pull your hand out from his. “I’m not here for an apology, and of all the people who deserve one, it’s not me.”

“And I’m not the one you should be talking to right now.” he counters. Your surprise must’ve shown. “‘Chako called. We talked. She’s still angry.”

“Rightfully so,” you say tartly.

“Stop stalling and go to him. You deserve happiness too.” He’s got you there – you are stalling. You know where you should be and who you should be talking to. “And Verity? Can I get my notebook back?” His sheepish grin reminds you of when you first started dating him, the boyish charm that won you over.

You stand up and smooth your clothes. Leaning over, you tenderly cup his cheek and smile sweetly. His shampoo tickles your nose, the citrus now headache inducing rather than comforting. With your lips inches from his ear, you whisper. “Get fucked.”

The cursor on the screen blinks at Bakugou. Another report he has no desire to filling out, but recalling daily activity is better than being lost in his own thoughts. He used a workaholic lifestyle so that he could eventually get to a place where he’d have more time for friends and… dating. And now he has too much time on his hands and nothing to fill it. Except work.

Bakugou’s fingers fly across the keys as he recalls what happened earlier when he stopped a convenience store robbery. Is this what his life used to be like? Work until he was exhausted, go home, eat, sleep, and repeat? How could he call that ‘living’? The only time he got out was when Kirishima and Kaminari dragged him somewhere. Pathetic.

A blinking light on the phone connecting him to his secretary grabs his attention. He hated that she could bother him whenever she wanted, but at least this way she didn’t poke her head in his office.

He stabs the receive button. A harsh beep and a grating voice fill his office. “Your fiancée to see you, Dynamight.” Bakugou smothers his initial pained look with a well crafted mask. Sitting up straighter, he feels his heartbeat quicken, but it feels like it’s twisting in knots. What could you possibly want? Oh god, what was he doing before? Hands. Typing. Report. How had his day gone?

There’s no time to think. The doorknob turns and his fingers fly across the keyboard. It’s all gibberish – random words that float into his mind that’ll make him look busy.

You’re there. And you’re not saying a damn thing, not even moving. How long is he supposed to pretend to be working?

“Katuski…” you whisper. You might as well have shouted.

“I’ve got work to do,” he says tersely. More gibberish fills his screen. Would you see through him?

“Can we please talk?”

Talk? That’s rich. He finally looks up at you. Bloodshot, sallow eyes stare at him, silently pleading.

“You already said your piece,” he snarls. “You made things pretty clear last time we spoke.”

He waits, but your lips press into a thin, disapproving line. His blood starts to boil. You came here, to his work, and want to talk. You stomped out of his apartment and basically called him a shitbag. And you want to fucking talk.

“What do you want me to say? That I fucked up? That I shoulda told you everything from the start?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and tosses it onto his desk with a clatter. “D’you want to see all my messages from him too? Just in case you don’t trust me?” You flinch at the venom in his voice, but stand there like a statue. Your fucking silence kills him.

Bakugou stands and rounds his desk. It’s intimidation, he knows that, but he’s desperate for any kind of reaction, even if it’s you telling him off. “I may not have told you the truth, but you’re the one who lied to everyone about what we were,” he growls. “And then to accuse me of throwing you to the side for someone else? Who do you think I am? I said I was in it until the end and there wouldn’t be anyone else.”

Still nothing from you. He runs his hands through his hair and pulls not so gently. He wants to shout, scream at you. Something. Anything. Why won’t you react? His scalp screams, the pain reigns in his anger.

But it’s not enough.

“Do you want me to beg? Get on my knees and grovel for your forgiveness? Tell you that I miss you and want to make things right?” And shit does he miss you. “Do you want me to say that I’m miserable without you? That I can��t stop making two helpings of food? Or that I roll over in the night and feel the cold spot on the bed and wake up in a panic?” Bakugou bites his tongue. That last part wasn’t supposed to come out, but you riled him up.

You shake your head, pity in your eyes. God he hates the pity. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Bakugou snaps.

“If you’d give me longer than a second to gather all my thoughts I’d have more for you,” you bite back. Bakugou crosses his arms over his chest. With a sigh, you continue. “You’re right. Out of the two of us, I’m the liar. I lied to the world and roped you into it. I lied to you and said that this would make things better, and I lied to myself when I said I wouldn’t get attached. You’ve been mostly honest–” Bakugou bristles. Mostly honest? He opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “And yes I’m counting lying by omission.”

Bakugou presses his lips together. You’re right, of course. “You took me in,” you continue, “Went along with this crazy, half baked plan, stood up for me… And I threw it all back in your face. I thought you were going to leave me, so I left first, consequences be damned.”

Taking a page out of your book, he stands there silently. You’re close. Maybe an arm’s length away. Either of you could reach out to the other, but there’s a barrier – hurt feelings, betrayal, pride.

You clear your throat and straighten your spine. “So yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t think things through and hurt you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me anytime soon. I…” Bakugou watches your confidence waver — the way your shoulders start to crumple and your puckered brows turn up. “I guess I wanted to offer you some closure? Let you get everything out? Ask whatever you needed to ask…” Get the answers she never got.

There’s a million questions swirling around his mind, but only one he wants an answer to. Your gaze falls from his as the silence drags on. You’re waiting.

The more time passes, the more you begin to fidget; crossing and uncrossing your arms, shifting your weight from foot to foot, even your jaw tenses sporadically.

When you can’t take it any longer, you nod once and turn for the door. The end. No more Dynamight and Verity.

Bakugou won’t stand for that. He reaches the door as you turn the handle. He’s so close to you, can smell your shampoo but it’s different.

He won’t admit to not throwing out your stuff, or that he once opened your partially used shampoo bottle to remember what you smelled like — as if your scent wasn’t all over his apartment. And he’ll certainly never let you know that that only happened once because he nearly started spiraling in his desperation to know where things went wrong.

You’re so close he can feel your warmth emanating from your body.

“You think you can waltz in here, say you’re sorry, and then leave like nothing happened?” he snarls, but there’s no bite to his words. “Fucking christ, do you know what you do to me? That shitty ass apology an’ I want you back. You coulda sent a text for me to ignore sayin’ all that. Why come in person?”

You flounder for words. “I wanted to see you again. I…”

“Say it.” You’re so close he could reach out and touch your hip. Pull you close. Bury his face in your neck. Fall to his knees and worship you like the goddess you are. But he needs to hear it. He needs to hear that you want him, need him. If she doesn’t feel the same…

“I miss you.” He nearly misses those three glorious words. Hastily, you speak up, your sentences melding together into one giant rambling thought. “But that’s selfish of me and I get it if you never want to see me agai-”

Bakugou pulls you in a crushing embrace. You feel good in his arms. You feel right against him. Even as he blinks away the salty sting in his eyes, he doesn’t want to let you go. If you’ll let him, he’ll never let go. Not again.

◇ Next Chapter

#bakugou #bakugou x reader #two truths and a lie #writing #mine

321 notes · View notes

auroracalisto · 2 years

Text

come what may — you and steve were childhood friends until the two of you grew apart. but now, you're back in contact, both internalizing your failed friendship, and facing the end of hawkins together. of course, with a few extra friends by your side. word count: 824 words tw: gn!reader, demobats mention, steve self-doubts, they're in the upside down, not much dialogue until the end, slight deviation from canon, also i realize this is mostly focusing in steve so that's fun a/n: requested by @hellotvshowtrash <3 ily

Between the two of you, neither of you really remembered what happened.

You didn’t have a falling out. You didn't have a crush on the same girl that got way too out of hand. You didn’t fist fight or move away or say something wrong.

The little kids you once had been grew up, and you found yourself in two different worlds.

No longer was it Steve and y/n against the world. It was a free-for-all unless you count that time Eddie Munson took you under his wing.

You fell into the nerds, a staple member of the Hellfire Club, while he claimed his throne as the king of Hawkins High. As far as you were concerned, you became a lowly subject; just another body in the sea of hormonal teenagers to impress. But to Steve? You were the only one he needed to impress. Too bad you never paid attention.

Steve hid himself behind hairspray and fake friends and parties filled with booze to forget his lost friendship with you; a grudge developed deep inside of his childish heart despite his claiming that he couldn’t care less about you.

Unfortunately, he never had been a very good liar.

But neither were you, especially when you said you didn’t care.

You might have been angry at one point, with the boy you once called best friend, but there was no reason to be mad anymore.

Not after the mall. Not after the Upside Down. Not when Steve Harrington was standing in front of you, bare, bloody chest heaving as he caught his breath.

He couldn’t be angry.

His heart pounded in his chest, fresh wounds stinging with every move. But it was okay. You were okay.

You were safe.

A part of him knew he couldn’t hesitate anymore.

Hesitation is why you were here, to begin with. You shouldn't have been here, with the gang in the Upside Down. He didn’t tell you no. He should have told you no, and then he wouldn’t have been worried about protecting you. He wouldn’t have been caught off guard by the damn bats that really put a cramp in his style.

Was he really his own worst enemy?

Maybe that’s what got him so many years ago. He hesitated and fell into the wrong crowd. The crowd that didn’t have you.

How could he truly hold a grudge when it was him all along?

He swallowed the heavy pill that was his anxiety and reached forward, cupping your tear streaked face in his hands. As he watched your eyes grow wide, he pressed his lips to yours.

He was tired of waiting for you to say you were friends again. Even then, he knew he wanted more. Months upon months led up to this very moment, fueling his every move.

Whatever grudge, whatever hesitation he felt—he knew he couldn’t have it any longer.

You could have stayed friends. He would have welcomed you, accepted everything you were. But he knew he became what he promised he never would. He knew you weren’t that kind of person, no matter how much either of you changed.

You had never been a snob—a rich bitch. You weren’t Steve “The Hair” Harrington.

And now, neither was he.

He wasn’t “The Hair.” He wasn’t an asshole. He wasn’t a womanizer. He wasn’t a bad person, despite what his mind told him at times. He was the babysitter, the guy who couldn't seem to catch the girl or the other guy or the ex-best friend right in front of him.

When was it that the two of you stopped being friends? Stopped caring? Or at least, pretending that you didn’t care?

Why wouldn’t his mind just stop racing for one damn minute?

Why wouldn’t—

Oh.

That’s why.

You were kissing him.

You were actually kissing him back.

And at that moment, he knew he was done dwelling on “The Hair” and his throne and his asshole ex-friends. He was over the demogorgons and the demobats.

All he cared about was here and now and your lips on his. And the way your fingers brushed against his and dear god—

A denim jacket hit his shoulder, drawing his attention away from your warm touch.

He looked back, seeing Eddie’s smug face. Robin snickered not too far away from him, a hand covering her wide smile.

“Told ya so,” Eddie said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “For your modesty, dude.”

A soft laugh escaped you, melting Steve to his core. Long since had been his days of melting anyone's heart. He would give anything to have you make him feel that way again.

Steve rolled his eyes, shaking the uneasy feeling that crept into his veins as he pulled on Eddie’s worn jacket.

You gave Steve a soft smile, knowing whatever happened in your past would stay there where it belonged. Steve was here, now, and you were ready for it all—come what may.

266 notes · View notes

autumnweeen · 8 months

Text

Dramione Month Day 26: College/University AU

Art by ene - Chester Company

Chapter 1: One Week and Three Days After the Easter Holiday

“Do you plan to change classes just so you can keep avoiding me?” Draco said as he grabbed her hand, rooting her in place.

“What?” Was all she could muster while trying to level her voice and pretend she was not panicking.

“May I remind you we have two classes together this term? It doesn’t matter if you try to avoid me or ignore my calls and my texts you still have to see me in class.”

He didn’t like mobiles. Texting was impersonal, he had said, and yet he had done it in an attempt to reach her, to talk to her; but it had not been enough to drive her fear away.

“I’m perfectly aware of my class schedule.” Was her retort.

“Then this attitude of yours is even more ridiculous because you are, in fact, aware that I will be there, and that I will see you, and that hiding from me and ignoring me since you arrived from holiday has been a fucking exercise in futility.” Draco was livid; truth be told, he had a right to be.

But Hermione would not concede. She didn’t know what to say. Once again, she had no plan, no emergency exit. Operation “Avoid Draco Malfoy” consisted of just that, avoidance, and it was failing.

“We need to talk,” he said pointedly, not for the first time.

Hermione tried to free her hand from his, but he just tightened his grip. She pursed her lips and said, “There’s nothing to talk about,” risking sounding like an arrogant brat.

“Yes, there fucking is, Hermione.” Draco sneered as he pushed himself closer to her.

She parted her lips and felt a rush of blood to her centre at the mention of her name. All the memories from their night together flooded her mind. Occlumency had never been in the cards for Hermione; she just could not clear her bloody head. Regardless, she had tried her hardest to lock away everything that happened between them a week ago in someone else’s room. The sounds, the smells, the taste of him on her, how she tasted on him, the feel of their bodies pressed together… And here was Draco Malfoy ruining it all, performing wandless magic with the touch of his hand on hers and her name on his lips, casting a Bombarda on her mental wards, fucking everything up.

Hermione yanked her hand away. “There’s nothing to talk about because that was nothing—

“Nothing? Do you often go to parties and end up shagging a friend in a random bedroom? Because I fucking don’t!” Draco growled.

“Of course I don’t! It was a mistake, it—it shouldn’t have happened. It meant nothing,” Hermione said, trying to convince them both.

Draco glared at her in silence. “You’re the worst bloody liar I have met. You know fucking well there…” He did not finish the thought.

“If that helps you sleep at night, then keep telling that to yourself, Granger. You’re right; there’s nothing to talk about.”

He walked away without looking back, and Hermione was just there, too numb to even react, her mind still recovering from the whiplash of his words. Some days she still had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that Draco Malfoy, of all people, had gotten to know her so well. She was only fooling herself; she knew it, but she was not ready to admit it; doing so made it real. Hermione could do almost anything as long as it served her purpose, and she could go on pretending there was nothing between them, but not even her brilliant brain could answer for how long.

#dramione #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #ao3fic #fanfiction #harry potter #dramione month #granite #sleep token

20 notes · View notes

cocowinterpup · 9 months

Text

Who Knew ~ Diavolo

"May I have this dance?" His silky smooth voice and charming golden eyes had enchanted them from the moment they'd arrived. The questioning amber shimmered amongst black feathers and gold lace. They wordlessly took his outstretched hand, slack-jawed and staring. He swept them in close to him, hips gently swaying together.

The pair gracefully spun under golden chandeliers. Soft violins accompanied their dance. The party seemed to move around them, the Prince and his partner an alluring centerpiece to the ball. Diavolo's classic white tie caught a small draft, lifting lightly off his chest through an elegant tailcoat. His cherry red hair shimmered under the amber lights. A playful smile danced on his lips. The black feathers of his mask gently caressed his oaky cheeks.

"You're quite the liar, you know." He teased, lips curling.

"I'm sorry?" MC replied, confusion painted in their features.

"I recall you said you couldn't dance, yet you seem to have bewitched my guests." He chuckled. MC's attention broke from his eyes, taking in the room around them. The entire room of demons was spectating their dance. A sprinkling of partners were taking the floor to join them. A few jealous eyes locked with MC's from behind feathered masks. Somehow, the Prince's gentle touch made the faces, that normally would have paralyzed the human, seem meaningless. They were no more threatening than the many paintings around the room.

"I hate to correct you, my King, but I'm sure they're looking at you." He laughed at their words.

"We make quite the fetching pair, don't we?"

"I'd say so." MC hummed, leaning their head into his chest. His arm wound around the small of their back, pulling their bodies flush together. Steps and breath in sync, the two swayed in place, turning ever so slightly. MC relaxed into their partner, relishing the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

"I miss you, mio cuore" He murmured, his baritone voice sending vibrations gently through MC's cheek. MC tensed. They lifted their head, finding his eyes void of their usual light, staring through them.

"What?" Their hand caressed his cheek, panic flooding their veins. "No... Not again... Please, no!" He gradually became too heavy for MC to support, the two of them collapsing to the golden floors, color draining from the room. They laid his head on their lap, holding his hand close to their chest. Wine red roses bloomed from his chest. His paling lips parted, freeing bloody spit.

"No NO!" MC screamed. The room was empty and vast. There were no longer walls to stop their voice. Party goers silently laughed behind masks. Fans over lips taunting the pair. Sobs shook their body, heavy down feather sheets draped over their frame. Plush pillows caught their tears. The smell of him still lingered in the bedding. MC curled further into the cushioning, memories of their lover staining their mind.

"I'll protect you forever, mio cuore. I promise." His whispered in between kisses. He held them close, his arms wrapping around them completely.

They clamped their hands over their ears, screaming into their knees as memories of waking up next to him stabbed their heart. He said forever. He promised. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"You're nothing but a leech. Stop ruining his reputation. You don't deserve him." The words of MC's peers returned.

He only likes you because of that program. He doesn't actually love you, you know that, right?"

"He'll leave you."

"You'll loose him. Count your blessings before he realizes his mistake."

"You'll only be a burden to him."

"You'll be the death of me, mio cuore." Their eyes widened at the sound of his signature chuckle. Yet, they didn't see his joyous eyes. They saw his lifeless ones. The cuts and bruises decorating his once flawless skin. The misshapen curve in his elbow. The root of his wing where it used to connect to his back. Piles of lesser demon corpses framed his body. He had given a valiant effort, but even the Demon Prince could be overtaken by a mob.

MC had limped towards him, throwing themselves down before their king one last time. Sobs and screams wracked their body, grief and guilt flooding their system. "YOU DAMN LIAR! WAKE UP, DAMN IT!" They cried. They gripped their chest, pain tearing at their heart. If only they'd been stronger. If only they had been more useful. If only they hadn't let him defend them. If only they'd never met him.

He was supposed to live forever. He was supposed to grow into an incredible ruler, one that inspired justice and peace. And here he lay, lifeless in a filthy alley like a diseased rat. Anger possessed MC. They kicked and scratched and punched at the corpses around them, making a larger mess of the scene. Papers scattered across the corpses with cursed names scrawled on them. MC would never forget that heart stopping handwriting.

"Bivium"

MC should have been the only person to know that word. How did these demons find it?

Diavolo's true name.

Footsteps echoed off the walls, Lucifer and Barbatos appeared at the mouth of the alleyway. They rushed to MC's side as the human collapsed back to their knees. Lucifer followed them down, bringing their head into his shoulder. His gloved hands gently grasped MC, starkly contrasting the tense rippling of his chest and arms. Black feathers cascaded through the air, the sound of wings tearing through skin. Through the storm, MC caught a glimpse of shining golden eyes and a wide, toothy smile. Screaming filled the air once more, all three of the mourners contributing. The two demons were far beyond any humanoid form, Barbatos tearing apart the already deceased demons. He had given up looking for those who'd survived and settled for decimating the corpses left behind.

MC couldn't bear to remember anymore. They could feel their heart tearing. The smell of his cologne suffocated them. The touch of his lips was still tender against their own. His firm grasp still lingered on their palms. His golden eyes still burned into theirs. His loving voice still hummed in their ears, "You'll be the death of me, mio cuore."

Their voice cracked, fighting for words. "I love you, my king."

#writing #obey me diavolo #obeymeswd #oneshot #An excerpt from my collection #diavolo x mc #song inspired #who knew #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #wattpad

16 notes · View notes

3terna15unshin3 · 1 year

Text

Then Because She Goes

I wake up, love you, so love you, love you

★ Chapter 5 of 15, 4926 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: alcohol consumption

<< 4

25 December, 2018

The holidays were celebrated peacefully and with tons of food, in the Manansala family. Este’s mum and dad spent the day cooking all of her favourite Filipino food for an early Christmas dinner, then enjoyed a classic roast dinner the next afternoon on Boxing Day.

Well-fed and happy to be back home to hang out with their family dog Dano (a mellow golden retriever, named after Este’s obsession with the film Little Miss Sunshine), she had a relaxing holiday. And, as much as the regressive feeling of staying in her childhood house sort of stressed her out, Este took advantage of her last couple of days off of work by not making many plans.

That was until she got a message from Matty. He always hopped around for Christmas, since his own friends and family were messily dispersed between London and the north countryside. He and the rest of the band were allowed a holiday break from rehearsals, so he spent late December basking in the calm before the storm. Matty knew he’d eventually be in Manchester with some free time. So, he decided to send Este a text.

Their conversation had graduated to iMessage after Matty suggested the idea that night in Kingston. As nice as their budding friendship had been, he found himself thinking of Este with affection. How she could make him laugh both on purpose and by accident, the way her hair sat lazily on the edges of her face, her love for books and her skill for allowing other people to experience what she feels when reading them.

So, he considered maybe asking her on a date. But the idea of that scared Matty—the formality of asking, the possibility of rejection. When trying to assume if she felt the same way, he was coupled with uncertainty, but he reached out anyway.

Este

Tue, 25 Dec at 13:02 PM

Merry Christmas x

Free to grab coffee on the 28th? 6 ish?

I’ll be in town that evening, if u are up for it

Only a couple of messages were sent between them since the album release party. Este, of course, showered him in flattery after first listening to it, whole-heartedly impressed by his work. Since Matty’s drunk words were sober thoughts that night, he really did care about Este’s opinion of him. He bubbled with joy when reading her messages. If she was telling the truth, that is. But Matty didn’t take her as a liar.

It had been busy for both of them; Matty was doing press for the month following A Brief Inquiry’s release and rehearsing for tour, while Este, Sam, and Oliver were dealing with the pre-holiday retail craziness. With that in mind, Matty was surprised to get a fairly quick response from her.

Este

Tue, 25 Dec at 14:10 PM

28th is my first day back to work :( off at 8 as usual

But we can do something afterwards if that's not too late?

And Merry Christmas to you too x hope you’re enjoying a break from the craziness

I am thank you !

I could just come by and hang out while u work bc I love it there Lol

Unless it’ll be busy I can just meet you there after close

That would be lovely! It’s always super slow the week after Christmas anyway

Everyone’s too busy raiding the big shops for the sales

ok cool I’ll probably show around 6:30

I need to chat to ur face about the album too :P

You’ve said enough about the album Este bloody hell

I don’t think I can take another compliment

Ego been fed enough lately?

Yeah actually thanks

Trying to learn how to be humble

Thank god x

✴ 28 December, 2018

A bay of colourful spines stared at Este as she stood in the Teen Fiction section trying to help a middle-aged mum find a book for her daughter. Every fragment of her teenage memories that popped into her mind felt outdated or not the right fit for the customer.

“I find that she’s rarely challenged with the books she reads, you know? I want her to really fall into the trance of a novel, have it leave an effect on her. I don’t think a book has done that for her yet,” the mum explained passionately.

Este thought back to the moments she felt that way for a book. One she read a couple of years ago—when she was definitely too old to do so—came up. Its heavy subject matter and vast symbolism and imagery struck her. Her hands picked the familiarly bright blue book.

“This one’s called Challenger Deep. I read it well into my twenties, but it explores topics I think other teen fiction writers refuse to explore. A little heavy, but for the right purpose. I think your daughter would love it, if she feels really deeply, like me.”

The mother, Orla, spent another 25 minutes chatting with Este about the intensity of being a teenager in the state of the world. A phenomenon the book shop worker never got sick of was getting a peek into the lives of the people of Manchester. Este felt like every time someone new walked into the shop, she got to know her city a bit better.

“Thank you again, Este. You’ve been lovely,” said Orla after checking out the novel for her daughter. Her boots then stepped out of the shop and into the breezy evening air.

The quiet day continued, piles of books slowly getting sorted through and reorganised. Matty, of course, was on her mind. Este watched the clock as 6:30 neared, but no text came through from him yet. She was hoping he wouldn’t catch her while deep in conversation with another customer, or (embarrassingly) struggling to carry a stack of books.

Once 6:50 rolled around, Este finally heard from him.

matty

Fri, 28 Dec at 18:49 PM

Sorry im already late

Just left late tbh

Lol ur fine

Do you like bubble tea??

You realise I’m Asian right???? course I like bubble tea

and you don’t have to bring anything! I’m okay

Omg you’re asian I would have ever guessed

Shut up and tell me your order

Matcha milk tea with pearls pls

Thank you xx

Ok gonna be even more late now but u know why so

Matty didn’t end up walking through the front door until quarter past seven. “There he is,” commented Este.

He held the two bubble tea drinks, one in each hand, raising them both in celebration. “I made it,” he said, handing her the green one. “Only 40 minutes late!”

After thanking him, Este took hers to the counter to set it down and puncture the top with the pointy side of the straw. Matty did the same. She looked at his drink, taking note of its purple colour. “You like taro?”

He looked at her, confused. “Yes? Should I not like taro?”

A laugh escaped from her lips and she shook her head no. “You should. I love taro. Just surprised, that’s all,” she admitted without elaborating.

“You’re surprised because I’m white and uncultured and should be picking, like, strawberry or something, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

✴

Matty carried over a metal stool from the back room to set it next to the one Este sat on. Together, they sat behind the counter, sipping on their teas and chewing up the boba.

“Can you let me say one more thing about the album? So I can just get it out and then move on?” asked Este. Matty sat on her left, fidgeting with the spinning seat of his stool, swivelling back and forth over and over; while she sat still and faced him fully.

“Okay, fine. This is your last chance.”

She smiled, happy to be able to get her last point out. “My favourite track isn’t Love It If We Made It, like you’d think.”

“Really? What is it then?”

“I Couldn’t Be More In Love.”

Matty looked back at her for a second, shocked. “Tell me why.”

“It sort of feels like being down on your knees and screaming at the sky. And it sounds really guttural. Your voice carries with so much urgency. I love its composition too, with the twinkly 90s sounding keys and saxophone solo and key change. It has all the elements of a standard, a perfected and refined sound—that almost holds down the rawness of the vocal.”

His swivelling gradually slowed to a halt as Este spoke. She had pointed out every aspect of the song that Matty loved, while her hands gesticulated in front of her, helping her process her own thoughts. Every word she used felt carefully chosen and placed strategically. It was refreshing.

“You know,” Matty started, with a smile of gratitude hanging from his mouth. “I recorded that vocal, like, a day before I went to rehab. So there was this hopelessness to them, and to be honest I sang it better after I got out. But it just felt right, so we left ‘em.”

“That makes me like it even more,” Este replied shortly, chewing more pearls and looking at him with admiration. She sensed he had more to say, so she let him continue.

“And not many people know, but it isn’t about a girl or romantic relationship. I wrote it about the idea of, like, what happens if all of this disappears—when nobody cares. Getting to do this thing, writing music, and having it personally affect people and being able to keep making more. It’s genuinely the one way I make sense of the world. Not even the fact that I have that vehicle to process my emotions but just knowing that it’s there. What happens when I’m not sure it’s there anymore?”

She let the information sit between the two of them for a beat. “Things always make sense when you’re the one explaining them.” They smiled at each other. “It’s comforting. Makes me feel hopeful. Like, if someone understands themself in this way then maybe one day I will too. An understanding deep enough to remain curious.”

He laughed, swishing around the straw in his close to empty bubble tea. Setting it down on the counter, Matty’s feverish hands reached for something else to twiddle with. A stack of sticky notes was in his hands, now ripping the yellow sheets into skinnier strips and connecting them end to end to make one long piece.

“When I listened the first time, I obviously thought it was about a relationship. So it made me think of an ex of mine,” Este mentioned hesitantly, watching Matty toy with the paper, nervous to bring up what she was about to. “It was my first time, like, actually being in love. So after things didn’t work out, it was so hard for me to grasp just not loving her anymore. When all I’d done the whole time was love her. So that whole, ‘What about these feelings I’ve got?’ thing really hit me.”

Matty paused for a second, having a quick panic internally. Is Este gay? I thought Cate was the gay one. It was embarrassing to imagine beginning to pursue someone not interested in him, let alone anyone of his gender. If that was the case, their friendship would be just fine the way it is—but his infatuation felt too far gone to reverse.

“That’s kind of where that line came from. And what I want people to feel when they listen. But when I thought about what it means to me, it wasn’t romantic at all,” he said. “Have you loved anyone since then?”

“No. Not in the same way. The true bisexual experience is having a huge pool of humans you could be attracted to and then not liking any of them. At least for me,” Este responded, bringing a light-heartedness back into her speech. Matty relaxed in reassurance and joined her in laughter. Bi. Good. Phew, even. “Was it easy? Figuring out your sexuality, I mean?”

She got up to walk over to the door and bolt it shut, flipping the sign to read ‘closed’. “In a way. Growing up, I thought the feelings I had for girls weren’t the same as the ones I had for boys, just because I thought they had to be different. Even though I knew they were there. And then I grew up—learning more and more—and things started to make sense. But it was never fully easy, or linear. Or definitive.”

She sat back down, continuing to watch Matty fold up the ripped paper. He brought one end of the strip of paper up and around itself. Using his fingers to flatten it, a small pentagon was formed, and he took the remaining length of paper to resume folding.

“That’s sort of what I find so difficult about it,” he admitted. “So many people over the years have taken what I say about my sexuality and construed it to mean something concrete—when that’s just not how I see it.”

His thumb nail, one by one, made small creases in each side of the flat chunk of paper to create the recognisable five points of a star. Matty set it down, now complete, on the counter and slid it over to Este. She picked it up and rolled it in her fingers, replying while studying it and bringing it close to her face. “It’s for sure frustrating when people think they know you better than you know yourself.”

Matty grabbed another couple of sticky notes to start another star. “I’m kind of envious of people like you, you know. Who have it figured out. I have such a hard time letting myself truly feel things that I find myself coming millimetres close to understanding myself in a different way than before and then I just pull away at the last minute. Just in fear of not liking what I discover, or looking stupid. Which I should stop being scared of.”

“I don’t have it all figured out, not even a little bit.” Este ripped up a few papers to try and copy him but she failed. No words had been shared between them about the technique, since they were busy conversing, so she only had the visual aid of Matty making another in front of her. She gave up, letting him just hand over the second one for her to hold. “You being aware of that fear is enough understanding in itself, in my opinion.”

They sat quietly for a couple of seconds, Este finishing her last few sips of tea and tossing the empty cup into the bin. “Is that what Sincerity Is Scary is about? That fear?”

He looked at her, nodding to confirm her question. “The stupidity of that fear.”

“Wow, I should become a music journalist or something,” she joked, shocked that she got it right.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, darling.”

Matty made more stars as their conversation persisted. He varied the width of every strip of paper to make ones of all sizes. A pile of yellow origami accumulated. Este watched, still not understanding how it was done. She found it endearing—and quite cute—to witness the attention and effort he was putting into the mundane craft.

“You hungry?” she asked, finding a lull in their discussions.

He glanced up at the clock, seeing its hands pointing at 10:07pm. “Always,” agreed Matty. “In the mood for something specific?”

Este remembered that she had walked to work that afternoon, after lending her car to Cate for the day while hers was getting serviced. So, she considered places within walking distance from Greenhouse. “Piccadilly Tavern does some good food. Just down the road,” she suggested.

“Sounds good to me.”

They gathered Matty’s collection of stars into the corner of the counter, while Este secretly hoped Sam would leave them there for her to be able to collect them again tomorrow, and then put on their jackets. His bubble tea was now empty and in the bin alongside hers.

Small clicks were heard while the two walked around the shop to turn off the lamps. Then, they were out the door one after the other, Este locking up behind them, and taking off to the pub. Matty extended his arm, bent at the elbow, towards her. She noticed—confused at first—but eventually wrapped her own around it and came close to the warmth of his body. The air sat at a chilly 5°C, but it didn’t feel that way when they had the other so close.

As the pub neared, Matty and Este observed its packed nature from the outside window. They had both forgotten the state of pubs on Friday nights.

“I honestly don’t think we’ll even physically fit inside,” he said as they paused before the door. Their arms were still linked. Este had to stop herself from accidentally stepping on Matty’s foot.

“I’d suggest another place, but they do a great margherita pizza here and it’s kind of all I can think about right now,” she confessed.

He chuckled. “We can takeaway?” Matty pulled the door open, and she went in, approving of his suggestion.

The wait for a pizza to share was only 15 minutes and Este left her number to get a call when they were ready; so they sat on the curb outside to avoid the bustling building. Despite him protesting, she paid for the food. Matty had already bought the drinks from earlier, so Este argued that it only made sense for her to cover dinner. He gave in.

“Oh, I have news for you,” Matty mentioned vaguely.

Este was curious. “News?”

“Yeah. I finished On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous last night.”

“Go on! How do you feel?” she eagerly pushed. Matty dragged out his thoughts with silence to build suspense, making her writhe in impatience. Este shoved his shoulder with hers to try and get his words out faster. “Seriously, if you have anything bad to say about this one I might have to walk away right now. That’s a warning.”

“I think it’s my favourite piece of fiction I’ve read in the past three years.”

✴

The pub rang Este about their ready-to-go pizza in the middle of their conversation about On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. They talked about Vuong’s words and what made them so poignant, and Matty even claimed that her annotations benefited his reading experience (and embarrassing her by referencing some of her notes verbatim).

Matty offered to go inside to fetch their takeaway and carried it for the entirety of the walk to her flat, after they decided it was more sensible to go there rather than camping out in Greenhouse after hours. Plus, she knew that Cate would be staying over at Georgia’s for the night, so they’d have the place to themselves. By the time they got up to Este’s door, the food was still hot, since her flat was only a short walk from The Piccadilly Tavern.

“Must be nice to live in this area. To be within walking distance to your work and all of the shops around Piccadilly and everything,” commented Matty.

“Yeah. It's busy, though. And it makes it too easy to just stay in my little bubble and never leave.”

She held the door open for Matty and the pizza box to squeeze through, and he set it on the dining room table.

“When I was in my early twenties—living here—I wouldn’t have ever wanted to leave,” he admitted.

Their jackets came off.

“Water okay with you?” she asked, jug in hand. “It’s either that or wine. Choose wisely.”

He opened up their takeaway, positioning the pizza so that they could share it, and then took a seat. “I mean… I’ve got no plans in the morning that a hangover could disturb. Do you?”

Este paused to think and then turned to pull on the handle of the drawer beneath the microwave, pulling out a corkscrew. Matty laughed at her non-verbal answer to his question and graciously accepted the glass of red she poured for him.

Their first bites of pizza hit the spot. Este wasn’t lying when she said the Tavern did a great margherita. They spent a couple of minutes eating, with small portions of conversation squeezing between their mouthfuls of pizza.

“So what’s next year looking like for you? Touring the world?” she asked, stopping at her third slice.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Matty wiped his mouth with a napkin before continuing. “We start with the UK in early January, bit of a break in February. Then, hopefully the Brits—if we’re nominated. Off to South America for some festivals, then Coachella and US tour through to June maybe? Coming back over during the summer for Big Weekend and a bunch of European festivals. Summer Sonic in Japan, Reading and Leeds. Australia and then Asia—I think ending it off with more US dates. All while writing and recording the next album, too.”

Este’s mouth hung open, struggling to conceptualise his crazy schedule. A whole year of travelling? Non-stop? It seemed impossible to her. She realised that it’s Matty’s job and that he’d done it before, so it must not be as scary to him. “Wow,” was all she could mutter out.

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t know if I’d survive that.”

“I barely did, last cycle. Did a bunch of smack, and stuff.” He sipped his wine and laughed. The glass was close to empty now. “But it’s worth it in the end."

She dusted the powdery flour accumulating on her fingertips into the corner of the box, considering the fact that it may be the last time she saw Matty for a while. It unexpectedly saddened Este. Conversing over text was fun and friendly, but moments like that first night; sitting on the couch and sipping beers in her flat, or drunkenly shouting at each other over the music in Kingston, and making origami stars behind the counter at Greenhouse, all made her realise how great his company was. Her attachment grew. Would their connection sustain through the year he was away? Does he even want it to sustain? she pondered.

“I’ll have to write down that crazy schedule on paper to break the news to my nan that you can’t attend her party,” Este joked.

“When is it?” Matty asked.

She could see a glimmer in his eye. Oh god. He wants to come, she thought. “No,” denied Este. “You’re not coming.”

A smile grew on his face as he realised she was onto his intent of asking. “Come on. Tell me when it is,” he insisted, playfulness evident in his voice.

“You’ll be on tour, Matty. I’m not going to make you show up to a banquet hall to celebrate my nan and granddad’s anniversary.”

“It’s not ‘making me show up’ if she told you to invite me and if I want to go,” Matty argued.

Este covered her face in embarrassment, with her elbows resting on the table in front of her, in disbelief that he wanted the information out of her. She spoke a ‘no’ but it was muffled by her hands in front of her mouth. He reached forward, pulling them away to reveal her face. In a flustered state, he noticed her mouth twitching up and down to try and stop a smile from showing up. Matty’s eyes found hers. He put on the biggest, corniest smile he could; eyes squinting, cheeks flexed, all teeth on display. Este couldn’t help but let her smile escape, Matty succeeding. She let out a laugh.

“9th of February. Saturday,” she gave in.

Racking his brain for the specifics, he realised that the 9th was when he’d be off, after the UK leg and before South America. Matty couldn’t believe the coincidence, laughing to himself in bewilderment. “I’ll be in London.”

“For a show?”

“No. Home. Off, free. Perfect time to attend a dinner and dance event held in a banquet hall.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Be serious please, Matty.”

“I am.”

Este shook her head, deciding to avoid the conversation and pouring them both another glass instead. And then she poured another, and another. It neared two o’clock in the morning, the both of them lounging comfortably on the couch together. The bottle of red was empty, a beer sat in front of each of them on the coffee table, and they were passing a now second and half-smoked joint back and forth. Crossed out of their minds, the previously deep and thoughtful conversations from earlier in the night were long gone.

Matty found himself doing things like explaining, in detail, the (objectively, according to him) correct way to put shoelaces into a pair of Converse; which he didn’t know he was so passionate about until he caught himself talking about it for far too many minutes. Este happily listened, equally as tipsy and high as him, shooting back with random tangents of the same minuscule relevance. It was the most fun each of them had all week.

The influence in their system along with the late hour of the night forced any remaining walls between them to falter. Este reached and touched his knee in laughter a few too many times to go unnoticed by Matty. He watched her eyes linger at the ink on his forearms that poked out of his cotton shirt while he blabbered. Her hands constantly reached up to flip the gold dragonfly hanging around her neck, but she always did.

Likewise, she caught sight of him breaking eye contact more than ever before. It looked like he was looking down at her lips, but she wasn’t sure. The curls on Matty’s head were disturbed by his fidgety hands every few seconds. Este thought it looked nice when they were messy so she wouldn’t dare complain.

“I feel like there's wet concrete behind my eyes when I try to close them and open them again,” he said to nobody in particular, obviously tired.

“That was a weirdly descriptive way to say your eyelids are heavy.”

“Yeah I know, but that’s what it feels like.” Matty clicked the power button on his phone and read the time. It was past three now. He flipped it around to show Este. “I think it’s bedtime.”

She stood up, reaching into the basket of miscellaneous throw blankets that sat in the corner of her living room and tossing one to Matty. It landed directly on top of his head and made him giggle. They were both smart enough to know that there was no way Este would let him leave this late, so she didn’t bother even asking him to stay.

“Don’t be alarmed if you hear me get up a million times during the night. Wine makes me wee,” she warned with a slight slur to her speech.

“Noted.” Matty untied his shoes to remove them before pivoting his legs onto the sofa where Este was previously sat, laying flat. “Thank you for the pizza. And wine, and weed. And for letting me stay over.”

“You’re welcome. Now you know what I get up to on Friday nights.” She took a cushion from the opposite end, near his feet, and then walked back to where his head sat. Standing behind the arm of the sofa, Este lifted his head to place it underneath. He looked up at her and uttered a small ‘thank you’.

She smiled back and laughed. “Your face looks silly when it's upside down.”

He wanted to pretend to be offended but he was too tired to carry out the bit.

Este continued to potter around the flat, still wanting to clean up after their night by putting the scattered bottles and glasses near the sink and closing the pizza boxes from the table. When it was tidy, she made her way back over to Matty. “You’re okay with sleeping here? On the sofa?”

He nodded, barely awake. “Of course. Don’t worry about me, I’ll knock out as soon as I close my eyes,” he assured her. Este was about to turn towards her room when Matty grabbed her hand to stop her first. “Wait, before I forget. On Beauty and Being Just.”

She raised her eyebrows. “On beauty and being just what?”

“It’s an essay you should read. Been on my mind all night but I couldn’t remember the title and it’s only just now come back to me.”

Este promised to read it but was unsure if she’d remember what was called in the morning. Walking away, she switched off the big light, before the two of them said a final goodnight. Not bothering to change her clothes, she fell asleep soundly.

6 >>

#matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x oc #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy fic #tbsg #Spotify

28 notes · View notes

chadillacboseman · 2 years

Text

The Power of Yes

Pairing: John Seed x F!Reader

Warnings: Oh boy! Enemies to "lovers" I will call this. Choking, rough sex, religious trauma abounds. OBVIOUSLY John Seed is a dickhead, okay? We fuck monsters here, both literal and figurative. I'm going to throw in a dubcon warning, kinda, reader gets blissed outta their mind, but the sex is explicitly consensual.

Word Count: Like 2.5k I think

A/N: This is a gift for @roofgeese >:3. The GIF is mine.

John Seed was compelling, you had to give him that.

You watched as he paced leisurely across the pulpit in the Fall's End church, babbling on about saying "yes" and atoning for sins. He had a certain enigmatic appeal when he spoke, something you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"-and that power, my friends, is the power of 'yes'!" John clenched his fist and raised it skyward as he spoke, "The power of admitting your sins and having them removed from you."

You rolled your eyes and felt the butt of a rifle press into your back; the disheveled man behind you grunted, threatening wordlessly that any further provocation would mean a bullet in your spine.

Next to you, Mary May clenched her jaw as she stared at the Seed brother, her rage almost palpable.

This was her home. Her church. Her fucking life. The Seeds had taken everything from her- including her family.

There was word, though, that a deputy from the Hope County Sheriff's department had survived the attack at the compound. Whispers abounded that Dutch had saved them and sent them out with a mission to free the people the Seeds had under their control.

John had been more on edge lately, lashing out at parishioners with a violent fervor he hadn't displayed before.

Perhaps the whispers of the deputy were true.

John strolled down the aisle, his liar's bible clutched protectively in his hands, flanked by armed guards. Back at the pulpit, a bloodied Pastor Jerome sat, unmoving, his face set in a sort of bewildered anger.

The youngest Seed paused when he came to your pew and cocked his head, his piercing eyes like to sapphires set in his rugged face. He studied you for a moment before motioning to the man behind you.

"What-" your question was cut short when the man slung a burlap bag over your head and drug you out to the waiting van.

When the burlap was finally pulled from your head, you were in a dim room you didn't recognize; there were no windows that you could see, and the only light came from a table lamp next to you.

"Sorry about the rough travel arrangements," John's voice came from somewhere behind you and you nearly jolted out of the chair, "Didn't want you to know all of my secrets."

"Oh, how prescient of you," you turned your head just enough to catch him out of the corner of your vision. He was seated in a wing-backed chair near a fireplace. Above the mantle, a photo of the "father", Joseph Seed hung, illuminated by the orange glow of the desk lamp.

John chuckled and rose from his chair, striding into your full view like a prowling cat, his eyes twinkling with an almost mischievous glint.

"You know, I think you and I got off on the wrong foot," John leaned against a table, his eyes never leaving yours, "You're not like the other sinners in Fall's End."

"Sinners". He said the word with a snakelike spit, full of contempt for the people who had taken you in like family.

"I'm not from there," you said simply and he chuckled again.

"That much I gathered. You're different than they are," He took a step forward and you recoiled on instinct. You had seen what he had done to others before you.

You were smart enough to keep your mouth shut.

"Are you afraid of me?" his voice was low, threatening, full of malice that you had seen inflicted on many a person before you.

"N-no," your voice faltered and he grinned like a cheshire cat. There was something handsome about his features, even when he was bearing down on you like a hungry wolf.

"You know how I feel about that word, little lamb. Especially when it's a lie."

The nickname was new. You supposed he thought himself a shepherd, simply trying to guide the flock of Fall's End onto the righteous path.

"You know, that fool of a pastor and the barmaid," another word spat with disgust, "they speak as if they know me. They call me a monster- a zealot. I'm none of those things."

John ran a hand along the wood of the table, fingers tracing the intricacies of what you suspected was an expensive tree of some kind. His gaze followed his hand's movement, bright eyes tracing along with them.

"All I am is a shepherd, just like the Father. I want to make you all the best you can be," he glanced up at you and you felt as if your heart was frozen for a moment.

You hated him so much.

Right?

But what if the Seed family knew something you didn't?

No, that wasn't possible-

Was it?

John stared at you from across the room as if he could hear every thought rattling in your skull. His jewel bright eyes never left yours as you argued with yourself internally, your thoughts like a

"Do you need more proof?" his voice was low, no longer threatening, almost playful. He prowled toward you and you felt your chest tighten.

"Yes."

You gathered that you had to be in a bunker as John strode alongside you through the hallways. Metal, tube-like walls accompanied enormous blast proof doors marked with large numbers and words that sounded vaguely militaristic.

In the halls, you passed Eden's Gate devotees, milling about doing their daily duties. Most of them ignored you as you passed, but a select few gave you looks of disgust and contempt.

You felt a growing sense of unease as you walked along with him - he gave you the illusion of free will, allowing you to walk with him freely, but always maintaining a powerful and unnerving presence.

But something about John was different than the other Seeds.

You sensed that, in the past, he had been a very different man. The glint in his eyes when he glanced at you only solidified that notion.

The two of you rounded a corner and came to a large metal door, which John unlocked with a series of keys strung around his neck.

When he ushered you inside, you found yourself in a darkened room, walls flanked with green barrels.

Bliss.

You knew about the drug that Eden's Gate produced- made from a local flower that grew abundantly on the mountains around Hope County.

Its effects were well-known by the people of Fall's End. Mary May had seen her friends lose themselves in the Bliss, completely unable to control themselves.

You moved to take a step backward, but John's firm hand cupped your lower back and pressed you forward into the room. When he shut the door, all light but the dim glow of a table lamp was snuffed out.

"I want to leave," your voice sounded small in the room, swallowed up by the darkness and the isolation of it all.

"Why?"

"You're not drugging me," you whispered; your lips had begun to quiver in fear and your legs felt weak.

"No, I'm not," John strode over to one of the barrels and ran a hand leisurely along the metal lid, "I'm giving you an opportunity to see."

"See what?"

"The truth," he responded simply with a shrug, "About Joseph, about me, about everything."

The truth?

You knew that Bliss could induce hallucinations- "visions" as the cult called them.

But what if they were?

What if Joseph was right?

John turned the lid slowly, his eyes fixated on yours, as a green-tinged fog began to roll from the barrel and flood the room.

You didn't protest.

John moved behind you as the fog reached your feet, wrapping a broad arm around your frame and holding you in place as your vision began to waver, like were staring into the distance on a hot day.

The Bliss was overwhelming, slowly flooding your mind like a noxious weed until you could hardly stand. You felt as if you were floating, grounded only by the feeling of John's chest against your back and his heavy arm around your shoulders.

"Do you feel it?" his voice was husky in your ear, sending a ripple of goosebumps down your spine, "Isn't it wonderful?"

It was.

You had never felt anything like it. No drug you had ever taken, no liquor you had ever drunk had made you feel like the Bliss did.

"Yes," you breathed, and he laughed softly, the sound of it was as if it came from the end of a long tunnel.

Visions swam into your mind like memories, given to you by the Bliss. John's voice warbled in your ears, no- in your head, as if he had his fingers digging directly into your brain while he spoke.

"Joseph is a prophet. He knows things, knows them more than any of us will ever know." A vision of Joseph swam before your eyes, his hands raised, Christlike, as he stood in a field of flowers.

"The end....is coming," Joseph's voice pushed John's out of your head and took residence there, the sharp claws of it grasping every fold of your brain, "And when it does, only the faithful will be spared."

Visions of fire and brimstone followed his words; Fall's End burned before your eyes, erupting in a ball of flame. Animals fled the carnage, eyes wild as they ran toward you and disappeared before they collided with your corporeal form.

Sheriff Whitehorse was there, standing among the wreckage, flames licking at his uniform as he stared, unblinking, into your eyes.

"And behold...." Joseph's voice returned and the sheriff's eyes glowed, orange like the fire below him, "A white horse. And upon him, sat death."

Death.

Hope county in flames. Everyone you had come to love, dead.

John gripped you more tightly as you squeezed your eyes shut and choked back a sob.

Maybe Joseph was right.

He was right. He was right-

"He's right-" you gasped, and John's grip tightened around your shoulders, "We're all going to die-"

"No, no," John soothed, his voice hot on your ear as you leaned into his grasp, "No. The believers will be spared, little lamb. You. You are a believer. I always knew it in my heart."

His large hand came from your shoulder up around your neck and you gasped as he squeezed gently, sending stars into your already foggy vision.

"John," you choked out his name and felt him jolt against you.

Something was different. The air in room changed as his name hung in the dead silence- still the green fog of the Bliss swirled around you.

"Say it again," he hissed in your ear and his grip tightened ever so slightly.

"John-"

Something changed in the youngest Seed at that moment.

Something he'd locked away for so long was threatening to break free. It clawed at him like a beast behind a door, thrashing and throwing itself at the wood until it splintered and he gave way to the urges he'd hidden away for so long.

Joseph had told him to give up the "sins of the flesh" as he called it. He knew of John's past- of how he had given in to vices that made him lose himself almost entirely. Vices that nearly ruined his life.

So, John had locked it away, pushed it aside and focused instead on being a shepherd to the people of Hope County. But now, he had you here, back pressed against his chest, lost in the bliss and practically begging him for it.

What Joseph didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Say yes," John sounded as if he was on the verge of desperation as he spoke, his voice hoarse while his beard rubbed against your ear, "Say you want it."

"Yes," you still felt as if you were floating, suspended above the earth with only his body keeping you grounded, "Yes. I want it."

It was the only permission John needed.

His hand snaked down to the waistline of your jeans, tugging at them until he had them down around your ankles. His hand never left your throat, gently squeezing as his free hand struggled for a moment with his own belt.

You needed him so badly- the Bliss had you entirely in its grasp, it felt as if you were going to erupt if he didn't touch you.

You felt yourself being lowered to the floor, the clouds of bliss rolled over you and you whimpered- it felt like too much.

Too much. Too much.

You struggled until your eyes found his and you gave him a silent plea, unable to speak through your leaden lips.

"I have you," John purred as he hitched your legs up around his waist, his words grounded you and you let out the breath you had been holding.

When he slipped inside you, you cried out and arched off of the floor, clawing for purchase against his shirt. He shushed you gently and stayed still for a moment, trying to push back the urge to fuck you senseless- to make you beg for mercy as he took advantage of your Blissed out mind.

That was the old John.

He knew what it felt like to be pushed past your limits. He knew it all too well- much of his life had been spent being pushed past his limits.

No, now he went slowly, sinking himself down until he was hilted inside you, watching your wide, doe-like eyes as they stared up at him, hazy and full of want.

It wasn't just the bliss that made you want him anymore. No, you wanted him in earnest. Perhaps you had always wanted him- somewhere buried underneath your hatred and resentment, you had always found him compelling, handsome even.

John's hand found your throat once more as he set a torturously slow pace, pulling out of you almost entirely before bottoming out again, his grip on your windpipe tightening in time with each thrust.

"This is how you repent, little lamb," his mouth found your ear as he spoke, each thrust of his hips jolting you so that the roughness of his beard grated against you, "Once, you were a sinner like them," he didn't have to tell you who he meant, "But now you will be cleansed."

The irony of his words was lost on you. You didn't care about the dirt on the floor or the way he was falling apart at the seams, returning, if only for a moment, to the John he used to be.

No, you only cared about the way he felt inside you, the way the Bliss made every movement feel even more heated, more unbearably, painfully incredible than the last.

"And when I'm done," John paused to punctuate the words with another hard thrust, "I'll do this again and again until your sin is gone. Would you like that?"

"Yes."

His favorite word. He grinned and squeezed your throat tightly until you saw stars that the Bliss didn't make. He'd push you, push you right up until you hit your limit, then he'd back down.

When he backed down, you were begging for more, offering your exposed throat like an animal submitting. He knew he had brought you here for a reason.

You were special.

John's thrusts quickened and you felt yourself teetering wildly on the edge, driven almost to madness by the way his cock hammered at the very core of you. Inside your head, the bliss swarmed your brain like a hive of wasps, each thrust setting your mind alight with white hot heat.

When your first orgasm washed over you, you cried out his name and tried to shove him away, but he didn't relent; he pinned you down and kept at it until you were cumming again, mewling and crying under him like some kind of suffering animal.

John tried his best to control himself as he felt you tighten around him- he tried so valiantly to maintain his composure.

It was a futile effort.

As your second orgasm sent you into fits of sobs, John felt himself lose control. Every ounce of him was lost inside you, spilling until he filled you completely, his cum dripping from you in pearlescent rivulets down the curve of your ass and to the cold concrete floor.

John was breathing heavily, his weight propped up on his hands that were planted firmly on either side of you.

The Bliss began to fade from your mind, dissipating like a fog rolling over the lake with the rising sun. Your head ached as you watched John rise from the floor and dust himself off slowly.

You moved to get up, but John tutted and cupped your chin, tilting your face up to look at him,

"I'm not done with you yet."

#john seed x reader #seed family #far cry 5 #ns/fw #sorry if this aint what you hoped lol #i really burnt out toward the end!

84 notes · View notes

the-royal-teacup · 1 year

Text

Teacup needs a rant…

This is a personal rant, so feel free to skip it if that’s not why you’re here!

So, you may or may not remember a few months back that I blogged about having a very toxic family member who is exhausting to deal with and who has done some extremely horrible and sometimes horrific things to my family and that a few months ago he had started again, rearing his head and trying to stir things up! Well, it got worse…

A bit of context, my mum was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Follicular Lymphoma in March of 2021. It’s classed as a slow growing cancer, one that they don’t treat, until it progresses, they put you on what they call ‘watch and wait’ which means you see a doctor every 3-4 months, have bloods done,a physical and CT scans to see if it’s progressing, seeing as it’s to do with your lymph nodes and unless you get physical symptoms they don’t treat it until this point because it wouldn’t work as well if it comes back, which with this type of cancer it isn’t curable and it’s something my mum will have for the rest of her life. And I know, it sounds crazy right? A cancer that they don’t treat straight away? But, truly, look it up. We knew nothing about it, until my mum was diagnosed and it still to this day it still sometimes blows my mind that my mum has cancer and we just have to wait until it gets worse to treat it. It may never get to the point, we hope it doesn’t, but you just have to carry on and just live your life, being grateful and thankful that it hasn’t progressed and she doesn’t need treatment yet.

Now that you have a bit of background, here’s where the shitty toxic family member comes in and why I spent some of today very angry…

We recently figured out that he had been going around saying he didn’t believe my mum had cancer, because she wasn’t having treatment and that she was lying about having said cancer. This coming from the man that has actual lied about having cancer at least three times that I know of, yes, that is the type of person he is!

Now, my mum confronted him, but not by accusing him straight out because with people as toxic as this shit head and knowing his temper, you just don’t confront him head on. So, instead she just said that some twat had been going around saying she didn’t have cancer and what would you know? He gave himself away that it was him. His reply? ‘Let’s get this straight, I was talking to one of your closest friends and they said they didn’t believe you had cancer’ that was the first reply, blaming it on someone else a supposed ‘friend’, this is one of his go too strategies, it’s always someone else’s fault and there’s always someone else to blame; it’s never him.

Then he wanted to know who had told us it was him that had said anything, because he wasn’t going to say who had said it to him, until we said who had told us! 🙄 Pathetic, right? And a man that knows he is caught red bloody handed for being the lying piece of shit that he is. It then changed to, it wasn’t that close of a friend and then that he’d just ‘bumped’ into them, whilst he was delivering on his job one day! 🙄 Just what liars do, they dig and dig, changing the lie and hoping you believe them.

Then, and get this, once he thinks he’s got you believing his lies he tells my mum ‘I love you (her name) and I want you to believe that. I will do anything I can to help you. I want to help you. You have to believe me (her name again)’. This man wouldn’t know love if it slapped him in the face, he just thinks love and sorry make up for everything; they’re just words to him and mean nothing.

I have no idea how such a disgusting human being came from my grandma and grandad, because my grandparents were the most genuine, loving, loyal, caring and giving people you could ever meet and yet they created this absolute waste of a human. It boggles my mind it really does!

Anyway, suffice to say, Teacup has a stinking great headache from getting so mad! We have once again told him to leave us alone, but like the cockroach with too many lives, he always rears his ugly head one way or another!

If you made it this far, thank you for reading my much needed rant, I appreciate it! And if you’re dealing/have dealt with a toxic family member, I feel for you, I truly do. ♥️

21 notes · View notes

appleofthemoon · 1 year

Note

uh so i heard from some people in our campus that yeonjun got send to jail after vandalizing the dorms, and my sister said he did that for me? i know he likes me but i'm not sure if it's real tho i just wanted to let you know

(i hope i'm doing it properly...)

w. bribery, food, vandalism, allusion to murder

hm, word really does get around quickly.

though jail's a bit of a stretch, yeonjun was merely put on a timeout. i could tell you more, but you have to give me a chocnut in exchange for something as precious as this..

..you don't have much time. my guess is that it'll take—at most—a week before he's a free man again. why are you shocked? as much as people refuse to admit it, money is a powerful tool. and when it's in the hands of a family like the chois, they're bound to use it to their advantage.

so run. take your sister and leave—get away from this life and start a new one. don't worry about expenses, i'll help you with that.

take my words into consideration. otherwise, you will never know peace while yeonjun is on the prowl, impatiently waiting for you to fall into his bloody web.

the vandalism? that's child's play; a piece of the masterpiece that he wants you to see.

and i might appear as a traitor, but i am not a liar when i say sooner or later, your sister will be “included”.

come send in a rumor you heard !

#muse : yeonjun.#yandere txt #yandere yeonjun #yandere choi yeonjun #yandere kpop #txt blurbs #yeonjun blurbs

22 notes · View notes

bad-science · 3 months

Note

yo wait ur sister was arrested?? On your birthday??

🤪🤪 lol yUP. She’s… yeah. “A mess” doesn’t even begin to cover it. There’s a massive amount of detail spanning years that I can’t even put in a single post but I have no issue putting her on blast here LMAO. A bit of a vent I guess, Warning for mention of suicide, abuse, and sort of domestic violence

I’ll put it under a cut sjdhsj but the TLDR is she fought with her shitty bf and threw an empty soda can at him, threatened to kill herself and all the cops, and now has a charge for domestic violence.

Happy birthday to me!!!!! My life is a divine comedy and I am not laughing <3

The summary is that she’s a shit tier person who’s dating another shit tier person and they abuse each other until she threatens to kill herself, which she has done for basically the last 10 years if anybody tells her no about anything at all and if she doesn’t get her way. It’s always just a threat and she uses it to get attention and manipulate everyone around her - and I would NOT say this lightly. She is legitimately a sick and horrible person who has mistreated and abused me and my mother to the point of our own mental health reaching a very seriously bad state. I do believe she has some sort of mental illness which could be influencing her actions but my god she refuses to get any help and nothing we do or offer her is ever good enough. When she was a teenager a psychiatrist diagnosed her as a narcissist?? But nothing ever came of that and she never got treatment. (Auto-disclaimer that people with NPD are not automatically abusers, but my sister absolutely is one lol). She is also a compulsive liar and has made up outlandish lies since she was a literal toddler (another thing the psych pinpointed immediately, but again nothing was ever done about it since she outright refuses treatment unless she can abuse or sell prescription drugs.) Back then it wasn’t as big of an issue. But now I see it as a red flag.

Today at 6am I woke up to a call from my mom and learned that my sister had finally been arrested for “domestic violence”. According to her, and this may not be the full story, her boyfriend accused her of cheating (again) (she is a cheater but to my knowledge has not cheated on Him specifically). They fought. She threw an empty soda can at him?? And then he called the police who apparently drug her out and arrested her. They said she was resisting arrest, she says she wasn’t. Acab per usual but my sister is the type to actually fight the cops when she’s in this mental state.

She did in fact threaten to “come back and slit (the cops’) throats”, they asked if she knows that threatening an officer is a felony, and she said “well then I threaten you with everything EXCEPT that,” which is a normal thing to say… and then they put her in a straight jacket bc she was acting out and threatening everyone. Lol.

My mom went to bail her out, $1,300 later my sister was screaming bloody murder in the car, yelling FUCK YOU in my mom’s face over and over, and got even more angry when my mom would not drive her to her bf’s house “to kill him”. Somehow she has decided that all of this was our mother’s fault? Bc she cannot ever be wrong ever and flips out when she doesn’t get her way. She is 24 years old.

They came home, I heard her scream outside, she came in screaming the same typical fuck you’s and all at my mom, I was honestly trying not to laugh bc I’m so desensitized to it by now and everything she says is ridiculous. Then she stormed out and started walking barefoot down the road claiming to be going to her bf’s house. Refused to get in my dad’s car when he found her. Then she stopped at the lake, texted a picture to her bf, told him essentially “it’s ok, you’re setting me free.” The picture was of his shoes by the lake; her intention being that she thought it was perfectly horrible to leave his stuff in the place where she “planned” to kill herself. Specifically to manipulate him and scare him. Bc guess what! She didn’t do anything. She just wanted him to think of having to go to the place where she “died” to retrieve his shoes and feel like everything is all his fault. Again… she didn’t do anything and it was all a threat to guilt trip him.

Bf called the cops AGAIN not even 12 hours into her bail djdgjd but this time the cops did nothing. She is now as okay as she can be I guess, and… we’ll just have to weather the aftermath storm bc she takes a long ass time to stop treating all of us like shit. NEEDLESS TO SAY, if they don’t fuckin break up after this they’re both lost causes and they can drive each other crazy for all I care.

We are all exhausted and stressed and I put up my own birthday decorations… but I do have a lemon cake. So that’s nice.

#queries #suicide #suicide mention #domestic violence #abuse #pls pls pls tell me if I need to tag this in any other way #anyways. yeah #I’m goin thru it but we stay sillayayyy #happy birthday I am shakily eating cake #ALSO I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH MY SISTER IS NOT NEARLY AS BIG AND BADASS AS SHE THINKS SHE IS LOL #she would literally never be able to kill a person or physically fight anyone enough to do so #so she’s all talk and Crazy Bitch Disease and nothing else

5 notes · View notes

deathfavor · 11 months

Text

@kyukicho said: “Blood? Are you bleeding?” Baji for Kazutora

concern rp meme starters

“ Don’t worry about it, Baji... “ The words feel heavy on his lips even as he answers cheerfully while staring down at the sink and water red from blood. Kazutora has the distinct impression that he’d just answered the other incorrectly. ( Well, he had. He hadn’t even answered the question. ) Baji might not be the brightest out of everyone but he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss that fact.

Kazutora hadn’t expected to run into Baji. It’d been one of the nights without plans with anyone, and Kazutora had ended up out fighting. Not as Valhalla’s number three, (two, really, considering Hanma was essentially the head), but just as the tiger. Violent and wild, who you could hear by the sound of his bell if he wanted you to. And he wasn’t afraid to take on those bigger and stronger. So he’d fought and fought. He’d fought till his knuckles bled and he knew he’d have nasty bruises the next day, besides his bleeding lip and nose. Not to mention the white shirt he was presently bleeding through. But Baji wasn’t supposed to have caught sight of him, it’s why he’d ducked insider the nearest building for the bathrooms - to wash off the blood and avoid someone he’d spotted in the distance that seemed all too like Baji.

But the elusive tiger wasn’t elusive enough apparently. Because it’d felt like only a few seconds before Baji had come barging in to the otherwise empty bathrooms and spotted the blood in the sink and Kazutora holding paper towels under his bloody shirt. Kazutora hadn’t yet looked at the injury either, just started using paper towels to try to stop the bleeding, but he was sure there was a gash there from a sharp piece of wire that he’d fallen against in one of the fights. It was nothing but sheer coincidence they’d been in the same area, and the luck was against Kazutora it seemed.

“ Man, blood’s not that unusual ya know? Don’t get all so worked up. “ He grins and ignores the pain that making the expression causes from his split lip, ignores the fresh drops of blood that raise to the surface of his lips. “ You’re out with others, right? Don’t worry. It’s not that bad. I can call Hanma or someone if I start bleeding to death or some shit like that. “ His free hand waves casually as if to dismiss Baji’s concern. Liar, he’d probably deal with it himself. Fuck. What shitty luck, he didn’t want to worry Baji over this or steal his attention from whatever he was doing. “ We can hang out tomorrow, yeah? Or call me later and we can chat. “ He pushes the conversation forward to distract from his situation. “ So don’t worry about me. I’m tough. Whoever you’re with will think it’s weird if you stick around much longer. “ He pushes the laugh past his lips, still playing it cool. At least it didn’t hurt that bad.

#kyukicho #blood tw #adding to the list of bad decisions kazutora makes this week #but well intended... doesn't want to worry him #play it cool & not ruin baji's night #100% committed to sucking it up and dealing with it #᛭ — [IC] wounded tiger caught in mania's pit [KAZUTORA HANEMIYA]#᛭ — [RELATION] not even the sun can rival the warmth of your love [KAZUTORA & BAJI]

9 notes · View notes

strawhatsoraya · 2 years

Note

Heyy I got an event request. Would you write forbidden love (commander/subordinate) with Erwin and y/n and „Breaking control“ July prompt? 🍀

Hello!!!! Erwin is a beast of a man so I kept this short before it got out of control. Thank you for requesting, I hope you have a wonderful day and enjoy your little fic. Feel free to come back if you are willing to <3

Forbidden

ERWIN SMITH X READER | SFWish (suggestive i guess but not explicit) WORD COUNT: 0.55k CONTENT WARNING: implied sex, on and off again relationship, erwin is an ass and he does as he pleases, mentions of alcohol consumption, toxic relationship vibes SUMMARY: Y/N thinks she should wean off Erwin, but he has other ideas.

To want was agony.

The knowledge of what you desired, and knowing it was out of reach, was exactly the kind of twisted suffering you always expected out of life. It was your modus operandi. Perhaps there was something deeply and inherently wrong with you. Something that made you crave that which you know would hurt you. Perhaps pain seemed a lot less scary than the risks of the unknown.

Or perhaps, you just loved him that much, come hell or high water.

The sharp straight line of his eyebrows was the precipice you walked on, wobbly knees barely keeping you from falling. His deep set eyes, crystal sky blue in color, were pits of despair where your dreams and hopes went to drown in. His mouth, one you had kissed too many times, was the mouth of a damn liar.

He was built for your torture, and yours alone. Hands that burned, destroyed only to build you up again. He explored your body unafraid of consequences. He had asked you once what you thought a commander did. You stupidly answered that a commander leads, he inspires, he takes risks others would not.

He laughed at you, buried to the hilt inside your quivering core.

“I command, I conquer,” he had said against your ear, hips bruising yours as he moved. “I do what is necessary. Risks mean nothing. I fear nothing.”

You had spent days away from him, avoiding him. You knew you’d be punished if caught. His eyes would search for you in corridors, and you’d avoid their hungry gaze. It was for the best, you kept telling yourself, as you laid in bed burning at the thought of him. It felt like starving, so you drank and drank for the next five days.

You were stumbling to the barracks, a hand trailing over the bricked wall. The bumps scratch your palm, but you do not care. He was still there, in the pit of your stomach, eating away at you until there was nothing left. The taste of wine was heavy on your tongue, and you smack your lips noisily as you stop to steady yourself. You lean against the wall, a loud sigh flying past your lips.

You feel his presence, belatedly, and struggle to focus your eyes.

“It is unfortunate,” he says as he leans over your, his large hands easily gliding over your hips. “But you have pissed me off. What do you think you’ve been doing?” You breathe out, ashamed at how quickly your body catches fire. He smells the wine in your breath so he kisses you, sucking on your tongue until the flavor of red is gone.

“We can’t,” you pant, breaking the kiss, and placing an unsteady hand on his chest. He easily slaps it away, tilting his head. You hate the casual expression he wears, as if he has no bloody idea what you’re talking about. “You’re my commander. It should be forbidden.”

He laughs at you, loudly enough that it makes you turn your head to look down the hall. He tuts, and grabs your face to make you face him. “You belong to me,” he says slowly, words clipped. You see his jaw tense, the fire behind his eyes. “And what belongs to me, could never be forbidden.”

#fic request #erwin x reader #erwin x you #erwin x y/n #erwin smith #aot x reader #aot x you #aot erwin

49 notes · View notes

exalted-dawn-drabbles · 1 year

Note

happy friday beloved💜💜💜 because I am self indulgent I come requesting Talenna & Neria pls🥺👉👈 “I accidentally punched a Templar. A few times. At least ten.”?

WELP I TOOK A PERFECTLY GOOD PROMPT AND TURNED IT ANGSTY! I GUESS THIS IS JUST HOW I BE?????? ENJOY?????? JKBWJKHFBWFEBHK (At least Neria gets a nice cry and a hug out of it?) For @dadrunkwriting

Rated G: Angst, Emotional Breakdowns, Hurt/Comfort, ~1.3k words

Bloody Knuckles & Heavy Gifts | Exalted_Dawn

When Neria stormed into the room, Talenna had to admit it was something of a challenge to keep her expression blank.

Her friend wore agitation like a heavy cloak across her back, but even so, imaginary cloaks were hardly good for hiding away the troubled furrow in her brow, or the blood dripping from her bruised fists. Talenna watched on silently as the Inquisitor swept past her, no words of greeting spoken nor sign of acknowledgement that she even realized the storyteller was sitting in the middle of her chambers, and collapsed heavily into the chair behind her desk.

She raised her bloodied hands to her face, pressed them hard to her eyes, and then sighed. “I forgot we had lunch planned.”

“Aye, I figured,” Talenna said, careful to keep her tone light and impassive. She sat by their favorite spot near the fireplace, Neria’s marble topped tea table in front of her and laden with various types of food. When she’d first arrived to find the room empty, Talenna had simply assumed Neria’s war meeting had gone late. Knowing that her friend would likely be famished by the time she returned, she had called for a servant to prepare the food anyway, and set about distracting herself until then. At first, the storyteller took her time arranging the furniture, and then the meal, once that had been brought in. And when there was no sign of Neria, even after that, she had decided to snoop through the Inquisitor’s belongings a bit– mostly her books– to pass the time. But before long, she had run through the shelves, and then the cabinets, and Neria still hadn't shown.

That had been about almost an hour ago.

“I decided to get some work done while I waited,” she continued, holding up a small stack of papers that she’d taken to transcribing notes on as of late before gently placing them beside a platter of cold rabbit. She nodded to Neria’s hands, her voice still even. “Is that your blood?”

It took Neria a few seconds to answer. “No.”

“...One of the advisors?” Talenna hazarded, though that seemed like a stretch. Even the Commander couldn’t fuck shite up that poorly, surely.

Her friend barked a hollow laugh and shook her head.

Talenna stared after Neria for a moment longer, waiting for her to explain, but the Inquisitor only sunk further into her chair. It would seem their shared lunch would have to wait a little longer.

With a quiet exhale, Talenna stood and walked over to the giant, wooden desk, perching herself upon its edge. She held out her hand, palm up, and kicked Neria’s chair lightly in demand of attention. “Give me your hands.”

“I wasn’t injured-”

“And I wasn’t asking. Give me your hands, lethal’lan,” Talenna repeated, her voice flat and challenging. This time, Neria did as told.

Talenna looked closely over the ridges of her friend’s knuckles, swiping away the blood with her glove to better see beneath. Contrary to Neria’s claims, the bones were already starting to bruise, and some of them had been battered raw enough to break skin. It didn’t appear to be a serious injury, but it was hardly a pretty thing. Talenna scowled and closed her free hand over the wounds, her fingers glowing teal as they gently traced the gashes. “Liar,” she snorted beneath her breath, her lips curling. “Now- are you going to tell me what really happened, or am I to spend the rest of my evening throwing daggers at the dark? Would it be overly optimistic of me to guess ‘Corypheus’?”

By the stiff twitch of Neria’s lips, Talenna guessed that her friend was trying desperately to stay angry in the face of her jokes, and was perhaps a bit annoyed that she was failing to do so. But seemingly after a moment of internal debate, the clouded, stubborn look cleared from Neria’s green eyes, and her muscles relaxed at last. The Inquisitor shook her head, her braid flicking behind her, and slouched forward against Talenna’s shoulder. “I… may have accidentally punched a Templar. A few times. At least ten.”

“‘Accidentally’?” If Neria hadn’t looked so tired, Talenna might have laughed at the confession, but instead managed to keep her amusement to a single raised eyebrow. “And was this Templar that you accidentally punched by any chance also a mage-hating arsehole?”

“Second time public offender,” she confirmed, her voice a low growl. “You’d think with me being a mage and all that they might learn to get over it, but there are certain individuals within the ranks that seem set on proving otherwise.” Neria paused, as if considering whether or not to say more, her forehead pushing harder against Talenna’s collar. “...There was an incident in the courtyard, and I was called in to deal with it. Ir abelas. I’m sorry for missing lunch.”

Talenna tried not to wince at the slight pain that rang in her bones at the pressure, instead switching her attention to Neria’s other hand in the hope that maintaining the spell would keep her distracted. “You hardly need to apologize to me, lethal’lan. I work with them- I know how trying they can be better than most. If I had even a lick of strength in my arms, Creators know how many men I may have pummeled by now.”

If the thought amused her any, Neria didn’t let it show this time. Her head remained firmly planted in the curve of Talenna’s shoulder, the glow of dull green-blue light casting her slouched form in harsh relief. Silence stretched a taut bowstring, drawn and one slip from snapping. It was disconcerting to see Neria so defeated. The woman was notorious for baring all her stresses with a spiteful smile, not… this.

Talenna had been about to resign herself to the suffocating quiet when she felt the faintest of twitches beneath her fingers. As if cradling a fragile bird made from paper or glass, Neria’s hands moved to gently grip the storyteller’s, and the light of the healing spell grew dim beneath their joined palms. “Are you…” She paused, whispered words caught behind clenched teeth, and swallowed. “...Do you feel safe here at Skyhold, Tal?”

Talenna stilled, her focus faltering. Her spell flickered like a dying flame. “...Most days.”

She felt Neria shudder against her, and her grip went tight. “Ir abelas, lethal’lan. I-” The sentence was lost in a strangled sob, and then another. “I’m not- ”

Whatever Neria had been about to say was lost in the folds of her scarf, stifled into nothingness as Talenna wrapped her arms around her friend and tugged her in tight to a hug. ‘Good’ she thought. Talenna doubted that she would have much agreed with what was meant to be spoken anyways.

After all, she wasn’t one for lies or slander about her friends, even when self inflicted.

“It’s alright, lethal’lan.” She spoke low, in soft reassurances, her words smoothed over by each pass of her hand across Neria’s trembling back. “You don’t need to apologize. Not to me.”

She felt Neria’s fists fist tighter into the folds of her tunic. “I’ll be better. I promise I will.”

Talenna felt sick. Such earnest words, sturdy and unyielding as the oak, but they were the wrong ones. Talenna shook her head, and snarled, “That is not necessary.”

“I promise you,” she said instead, digging herself deeper. Rooting herself firmly in her own oath. “I promise.”

She repeated those words again and again in endless refrain as her tears stained Talenna’s clothes. Each one given worse than the last. Some were spoken in apology. Others in anger. But mostly, they were just weighed with guilt. Terrible and unforgiving guilt.

Talenna held her friend through it all, accepting each apology as it came. Such awful, heavy gifts they were, and she wanted none of them.

But she took them anyway. If only to spare her friend the weight.

#dadwc #dragon age fanfic #talenna ethera #neria surana lavellan #sadness :(

7 notes · View notes