#I want any victory to be as painful as possible

[cursedvibes]

I hope Tengen breaks free and kills everyone, Kenjaku and Sukuna included

[abelllia]

Re-reading the MAG 160 transcript and I want to bite Elias’ head off so bad

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．． ❛ #HER NEW BOYFRIEND’S NEXT!

𐙚 synopsis。．short hcs/scenarios of jealous yandere aventurine & sunday ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive themes . general yandere themes, brainwashing, gaslighting in Sunday’s part, mentions of violence, mentions of scide, imprisonment, except for aventurine relationships are not established, WARNING: extremely obsessed and smitten with you, read at risk!

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。honestly why do i think sunday will be literally the most dangerous yandere you could ask for。man has all the resources to brainwash you and lock you up pls

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY．。

。… a classic yandere obsessed over control. 。literally, he will be such a control freak. he has eyes all over penacony. he would have already kept track of what kind of soulglad you drink, when you get home, what your sleep habit is, all under the span of a week, and that’s before meeting you. obviously, as your future spouse, he is just obtaining information he needs for the future! 。will treat you surprisingly equally to his other guests when you meet, he doesn’t want gossip to get around, and he wants to make this “process” as natural as possible. 。after you are successfully within his area of control, he will start to monitor you even more meticulously- who you meet, what you do in your dreams.. he is a bit disappointed you don’t visit him on your own accord, but that will all be arranged soon! 。will casually go up to your room to ask you about “room service satisfaction” when he’s actually just busy breathing in your lovely scent and assessing your room for any “threat.” 。he doesn’t like that you’re affecting his ability to work. he’s impatient, of course, but he knows that he will have to wait for the perfect opportunity to whisk you away like a knight in shining armor. And all he needs is a little pawn to play the act of a villain- oh, your little male acquaintance will do! 。he’s like that- using people around you as puppets to his grand stage. Sunday is well-informed about morals, of course. But he won’t feel much guilt, not when he knows this is all for the ‘greater good.’ “They” will approve of it. 。and so, he starts to crack his charming facade- he will start asking you for private meetings, and he will put you in a vip room so you are isolated. He does this under the mask of ‘danger,’ saying that you have faced too many threats and he needs to ensure his guest’s safety. 。If you call your friends for help? The next day, they are mysteriously gone from penacony. You call them but your phone is out of service. 。but if you are still not charmed over his chivalry.. he’ll have to settle for easier methods.

❝ WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?”

Your demand was choked with such pleasant sobs that SUNDAY couldn’t help but slip out a small victorious smirk that quickly masks itself to a concerned facade when you fix your angry watery eyes at him.

“I know it was you,” you continue, pacing around his office while he remains nonchalantly seated, trailing his eyes to your every step. “You made all my friends vanish from penacony, you had my parents escorted away to aeons know where, you stowed me here like I’m some kind of precious little jewelry for your eyes only. What do you want from me?” The evident snarl in your words merely makes Sunday tip his head a little, staring at you with the same serene look that frustrated you.

“Oh, sweetheart, you got it all wrong.” He shakes his head in disappointment and rose up from his seat, taking silent strides to you at an alarming speed that made you stumble backwards to the door. “‘They’ have done nothing for you during your stay in the Reverie. You are always disappointed with them, but you choose not to speak up. It is such a painful sight, you are just like a bird who lost its voice.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, dangerously neutral, which scares you, and makes you doubt yourself.

Maybe you were just being stupid, Sunday was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. And your friends indeed did not do much for you here, unlike Sunday, who provided you with all this luxury without accepting anything in return. You feel safe here, almost. You blink a little- the heat that had pounded through your ears was gone, and now you feel like a harmless puppy that just barked his best at a wolf.

“It‘s natural to be mad, dear.” His hand delicately entangles itself into your locks, and you stare at him, unable to say anything as he soothingly whispers. “It is hard to understand actions for the greater good. relax, sweetheart. Everything will be better now,” he purrs, staring right into your eyes. They are endless depths of azure. They are very, very mesmerizing, you think.

“Everything will be better now,” you realize, and you sigh into his arms that seemed to suddenly be present around you. But the worry disperses, you are fine with being close with him. His embrace is welcoming and soft. You don’t want to leave it ever again.

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE．。

。this man takes the cake for being the most jealous man in honkai 。he’s a charmer. he wins you over easily, because who could resist his charisma and his wealth, honestly. He flirts his way easily with you— unlike Sunday, he likes an impromptu plan, and rather enjoys surprises- any attempt of you trying to break up with him will not irritate him at all, contrary to the former. 。“Your attempts fascinate me. Too bad you lost all your bargaining chips. You gonna play another round with me, love? I’m more than willing to, you know.” 。he will be pleased, intrigued at how he can break you down again. he likes a little chase and gamble, he doesn’t want his prey served on his plate, he likes the thrill of hunt. 。he’d even be impressed if you escape him. But not for long, because he will bring you back to where you belong. 。this man will barely be angry over you. He won’t force any affection onto you, he satisfies himself by buying you expensive clothes instead, as if you are his little doll. He is content with you being a quiet and submissive trophy. 。what this man does not tolerate, however, is you being with anyone else. He cannot bear the thought that someone is around you more than he is, and that you rely on someone more than you rely on him. Aventurine has pride over his abilities, anyone taking you is like taking his most precious trump card. 。despite the jealousy he feels, he will still regard this as a particularly entertaining game. But he knows he will win this gamble, too.

❝ AH, IT’S SUCH A THRILLING GAME, ISN’T IT, SWEETHEART?”

You watch AVENTURINE toss the coin into the air and roll it around his fingers, his mesmerizing eyes examine the bitter look of defeat on your features.

“This isn’t funny,” you sobbed, despair dawning on you upon realizing that you truly lost everything to him. You had no more moves left in this game he put you in. He was merciful enough to spare your blood relatives, but your friends were gone- including the nice and sweet, innocent guy you shared friendly banter with for barely an hour.

“A gamble is fair and share, love.” He puts his hand on your waist, giving you a short kiss that tasted of wine. You felt nothing but defeat as he tossed the coin on the table where it flopped. “You just picked the wrong set of cards to play with.”

He is close to you all of a sudden, his hot breath tickling your skin, smelling of victory and wealth. His eyes stare right into you as he chuckles, the sadistic glint in his eyes glitter a little more when you feel a tear escape your eye. He leans to your ear, lightly biting your earlobe as he adds,

“Nobody wins with a deck with only clovers, my love. A shame that your cards were so… discardable.”

He laughs at that, watching your stunned face. He loves the look of surprise on you. It is endearing, it shows so well that you do not know how to play his game at all.

[frostbitebakery]

Loud.

part one two three

“You’re impossible!”

Obi-Wan harrumphs back at Cody with feeling. The way they’re running it’s equally impossible to sign or code tap. He engages the lights on his gloves, squeezes his fingers in a rhythm and the code appears in short and long lines on the back of his hand. Which he gladly shows to Cody. “You’re one to talk.”

“Dogpiling Grievous was a calculated move,” Cody huffs back, skids to a halt at a maintenance door that Obi-Wan almost missed. While Cody types in the emergency sequence, he carefully gets his message ready.

“You’re bad at math,” Cody reads blandly when he turns around. “Very funny.”

“Careful,” he signs, fingers stiff and unwieldy as the nervousness crawls through him. Setting in his knees, making them weak. A clump in his stomach. Stiff, clumsy hands.

“You know you can change your mind any moment,” Cody says, catches his eyes and Obi-Wan sinks into the warmth. “We can stop whenever you need.”

“No.”

Cody waits for him to continue but he can’t even nod or move. The gap between their fingers feels insurmountable.

But he wants this. Needs this, on a level deeper than the trust he has in Cody.

“Shadows don’t trust easily,” he wants to say. “I do even less.” His trust is forged in pain and loss and bittersweet victories. And faith.

“I like hugging,” his fingers confess and he feels stupid for the brief moment until Cody’s face lights up.

The mask digs into his face where it’s smashed against Cody’s shoulder. Cody’s arms feel safe and unhesitating and so sure it unlocks Obi-Wan’s knees and stomach and fingers and he’s hugging back with eyes closed.

For the first time in a long, long while he wants his voice back. He doesn’t know what he’d say. And perhaps it doesn’t matter. Just the urge to pull off the mask and move his mouth—

soft lips press against his temple just over the edge of the mask, gentle fingers tap on his hand in code, “I hear you.”

You really do, don’t you, Obi-Wan thinks, watches his own hand tap in the same rushed rhythm. One short, one long, two short.

“I hear you,” Cody signs back, forehead against Obi-Wan’s brow.

Three long.

Obi-Wan never lost his voice.

Three short, one long.

Not with the people that matter.

One short.

“Me too,” Cody whispers. “Ready?”

The catches on the mask hiss as they open.

.

“You’re impossible!”

Obi-Wan harrumphs back at Cody with feeling. The way they’re running it’s equally impossible to sign or code tap. He engages the lights on his gloves, squeezes his fingers in a rhythm and the code appears in short and long lines on the back of his hand. Which he gladly shows to Cody. “You’re one to talk.”

“Dogpiling Grievous was a calculated move,” Cody huffs back, skids to a halt at a maintenance door that Obi-Wan almost missed. While Cody types in the emergency sequence, he carefully gets his message ready.

“You’re bad at math,” Cody reads blandly when he turns around. “Very funny.”

Obi-Wan squeezes out another message.

“It was also very hot,” Cody reads. And pauses.

Obi-Wan imagines the blush hidden by the helmet vividly and smiles.

He’s ushered with no further comment into the maintenance closet which bears entrance to some shortcuts across the Malvolence. He looks at Cody in question who shrugs.

“I briefly saw the holoprints in one of the war rooms.”

Yes. One of the many reasons this infatuation is turning into something warm and bright and unbearably sweet. Cody is making himself a place in Obi-Wan’s heart like he’s coming back home.

“We’re almost there, Sir,” Cody says suddenly, relief palpable in his voice. Master Windu must have finally reached him on comms. “Understood, Sir. No more shenanigans, Sir.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders shake with laughter.

.

“The mask helps me breathe,” Obi-Wan explains, head held high under Cody’s gaze. Getting out of breath could possibly suffocate him. Too dry or humid air is painful. With the exact parameters of what his body is able to handle, the healers had settled on a mask to protect him when he runs too fast. “Or other strenuous activities,” he adds with a slight smirk.

Cody shakes his head at him with a fond smile that tingles in Obi-Wan’s chest pleasantly. His thumb caresses the web of scars going from Obi-Wan’s bottom lip. “Can you feel that?”

“A little bit.” Not much at all, when it comes down to it. Kissing has become unimportant to him out of necessity. Few people had wanted to kiss him in the first place when the scars had still looked fresh. He’s lucky his jaw hadn’t needed to be replaced, so he’s not complaining.

It had been difficult nonetheless. To work around the muteness, the way his body had been changed. He’s learned to put more importance into other gestures than kissing on the mouth.

Cody’s forehead rests against his once more, catching his hand and slowly stroking the palm, up to the fingertips. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Gestures like Cody’s.

.

“I didn’t expect to see you there,” Cody says as they settle into the rescue shuttle. “General Windu said we had reliable intel to do a hit and run on the Malvolence.”

Obi-Wan waves his hand, palm empty before a flick of his fingers reveals the data stick.

“Information retrieval,” Cody asks, voice changing from vocoder to his usual timbre as he lifts his helmet. “I imagine there was a lot of useful data to harvest.” The shuttle is rocked as the warship explodes. “I should’ve saved my sweets ration,” Cody murmurs, eyes reflecting fire and bone-deep satisfaction.

“You’re dying for a fabricated war,” Obi-Wan doesn’t sign. The intel he managed to get his hands on is enough to connect the missing senate funds with Serenno’s newly acquired wealth from another angle and make it waterproof.

Destabilizing a whole galaxy for— for shits and giggles. Obi-Wan sits on his hands, shuts himself up so he can think.

“The Dark Side has clouded their vision. Hundreds of senators are now under the influence of a Sith lord called Darth Sidious,” Dooku’s voice grates through his memory. Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to tell him just where he could store his lightsaber for safekeeping so his erstwhile grandmaster had taunted him with the truth, in hindsight.

Anakin.

The signs rush out of his hands, too fast for Cody at first. He repeats himself, trusts that Cody, brilliant, brilliantly fast Cody, will get it.

The helmet is back on Cody’s head, lights flickering on, antennas adjusting their angle.

“General Windu, this is Commander Cody using emergency frequency 2-Esk-5-0. Immediate contact with General Bilaba required. Immediate removal from battle of General Skywalker required. Use of force strongly encouraged should he resist.”

Obi-Wan crosses the small distance, waving his hands before using the quick battle sign for “deliver message”.

“General, Master Shadow Kenobi has a message,” Cody says, doesn’t pause as he translates to voice even though his back goes ramrod straight. “Chancellor is the Sith. I have proof. Ani must be kept away from him.”

.

“Some call them traitors,” Cody whispers, “but I’d rather turn a blind eye and let them run than watch them step into blaster fire because they don’t want to fight with every fiber of their being.”

“You’re a good man,” Obi-Wan signs, hands held up a bit so Cody can see. He hadn’t wanted to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes for the confession, had chosen to press him close under his chin instead. “You’re a good man,” Obi-Wan taps out on Cody’s chest so he can feel his words, too.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Teen!Reader finding Alastor all beaten and bruised after the finale and getting worried, insisting in patching him up, etc, while Alastor during the entire time is having a moment of realization like "oh, this kid ACTUALLY cares about me"

(This is platonic obviously, reader sees him like a weird older brother/father figure and looks up to him idk)

I love it. Simple, enjoyable and to be honest, we’ll just pretend Alastor had his sick solo in the finale before we showed up and I suppose Al will be quite unhinged and aggressive in this state so goddamn. Also, my second time writing about the finale

Platonic! Alastor- Reaching Out

“You son of a bitch, I am trying to help you!” You growl out, now half-wrestling with the Radio Demon himself, after his lose battle against Adam. Whilst Adam has been finally defeated at Lucifer’s hand then killed at Niffty’s knife. It’s clear as crystal that Alastor isn’t taking his own defeat well at all. He’s aggressive, completely lost his usual charismatic, well-mannered demeanour, he’s breaking down and barking at you to back off as you’re still trying to pry his own hands off the visible red bleeding wound over his chest

You’ve found this retreating deer out of pure luck and now, you’re acting on your compassion for him to try make the process of healing less painful for him

You’re the only Hazbin Hotel staff member that actually treated Alastor more than an annoyance standing there. He isn’t the best guy at there, never. No, but he isn’t as bad as Vaggie or Husk claim he is. However, right now, he’s boiling your blood with how much he is refusing to let you even touch him, despite the fact he needs to be patched up. He’s low on power, his cane is snapped in half, he’s limited and requires help

“I don’t need your help, Leitora!” Alastor barks back in possibly the most unhinged way you’ve ever seen, basically backing into a wall. He can’t even notice how worried you actually are, how you’re getting frustrated because you’re worried and you’re the only one who has been looking for and have found Alastor whilst everybody else is celebrating the victory over Adam. You’re the one looking for and now looking out for the man you actually find quite nice. He isn’t as patronising to you, for whatever reason, Alastor’s decent and it’s almost like he wants to be some type of figure in your life with how he behaves

“Stay still before you bleed yourself to unconsciousness, you narcissistic edible piece of shit!” You only say this so cruelly, sharp and half loud as to put Alastor into his place, prove to him you’re not backing down whilst you finally win the half wrestling session you have with the weakened and distressed Overlord, already beginning to check around for the entire length of the wound and use what little excess fabric your current clothing has to make a makeshift bandage for this wound

This is surprising, you’re possibly two times his age. A teenager, if not 15-16 at the oldest upon your human death and you’re acting more mature than the biologically 34 year old. Alastor just stayed quiet, tall fluffy deer-like ears still pinned back and suffering through the intense pain. He wouldn’t admit that he is quite grateful that somebody is around but at the same time, he doesn’t want to get attached to any soul

It took him a proper glance at the cute young sinner he found it fun to playfully tease, mock and behave like a clingy overprotective big brother to piss off, that they genuinely care for him. That they aren’t lying or pretending as to get something out of him like he suspects everybody in the Hotel, including Charlie, is

This is so much different than he suspected, he was believing he’d be going back to his radio tower to vent out his rage at being smacked in the face of such a pathetic opponent

Ending up being the pathetic opponent. He hates showing his weakness and he can barely keep himself from snapping but he also can feel his racking nerves ease up a bit at this strong, confident yet sweet and compassionate kid trying to take care of him when they have no actual requirement to do so

Alastor takes a few more seconds to think and speak, not even realising he was sat down by you as he was thinking frantically about how his own mischievous and mocking behaviour as some type of surrogate brother for you was more than just something down to see your reactions for his own amusement, he does feel some type of family-based affections for you

Now, that affection has been bumped up even more. He definitely owns you a lot for caring about him like some surrogate little sibling when all he does for you is annoy you. He doesn’t even know that you actually look up to him like some type of family figure… so, the familiar feelings are mutual

“Fuck… can you just be careful with the coat? This is my treasure”

(A/N: Real quick. Leitora means ‘Reader’ in Portuguese, this’ll be our name for any none anime posts. There’s two versions; Leitora as the feminine version and Leitor as the masculine version. You can use either for us! I got this from Google Translate)

[nolovelingers]

WHEN THEY’RE JEALOUS ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

⋆ ★ movies :: scream ,, scream v ,, scream vi

characters used ᝰ.ᐟ billy loomis / stu macher / sidney prescott / wes hicks / ethan kirsch (landry) / tara carpenter / mindy meeks martin / chad meeks martin

🎧 cw — jealousy (obvi) ,, violence and dark themes (only for the ghost faces) ,, possessiveness ,, gn!reader except for stu and mindys part !!!

——————————————————————————

ೄྀ࿐ BILLY LOOMIS ˊˎ-

billy doesn’t really get jealous often. he’s extremely self-confident in himself and knows that there really is no one better than him. he knows you wouldn’t dare leave him for another, but that doesn’t stop the occasional feeling of possessiveness creeping through his mind at the sight of seeing you with another guy.

he definitely doesn’t mention it to you, not wanting you to know that the sight got to him, even if it was only slightly, and resorts to sending a glare in the person of interests direction when you’re not facing him. the second you turn around he gives you a sweet toothy smile, both cunning and sly all the same and he makes sure to lock eyes with the person while bringing you in for a deep kiss, hand gripping your face securely as if you were a possession.

and of course, he’d send stu to kill the person later that night; not feeling like their death was worth his own time.

彡 “billy, hey.” turning to greet your boyfriend with a chastened and quick kiss to his mouth, he hums, savoring the feeling of your lips moving against his that was all too short in his opinion.

“hey doll.” the corners of his mouth itched up, a smirk creasing over his face that held mischief, a dark sense of playful fun as he observed you, eyes quickly flicking from you to the boy you were currently talking to. he looked at the kid for not longer than a few seconds before returning his stone cold gaze back to you, like the man wasn’t good enough for his eyes to settle on.

“who you talking to?” he asks, only a hint of actual curiosity lingering in his voice, meeting your eyes with his and wrapping an arm around your lower body.

“oh, this is daniel. he’s in my history class.”

billy hums, returning his eyes back to the boy, who’s name was apparently daniel, in an almost predatory way. daniel felt unease through his veins as the loomis boy studied him, and smiled a bit. “nice to meet you.” he said, and billy nodded with a straight face, suddenly holding out his hand to shake. daniel accepted the gesture, loosely shaking his hand but finding himself wincing a bit at the intensity of the blonde haired boys grip.

“im billy. (y/n)‘s boyfriend.” quick to annunciate the boyfriend bit, daniel took the hint, gulping but nodding in understandment.

“alright well, i gotta run. ill see you tomorrow.” excusing himself from the conversation, daniel walks away from the scene, shaking his hand a bit as a way to soothe some of the pain from the hand crushing grip billy had him in; and you were completely oblivious as billy smirked in victory, guiding you back to the school parking lot and quickly taking out his flip phone to text stu about their next possible victim.

ೄྀ࿐ STU MACHER ˊˎ-

unlike billy, stu is an extremely jealous cretin who quickly doubts himself when it comes to his worth in the relationship. after his very first girlfriend, casey becker, left him in the snap of her fingers for a jock, he was left to be decently insecure.

he would do anything to prevent you from having any male interaction and if he could he would have a camera on you at all times to watch you go about your day and see how you’re interacting with others who aren’t him. when he actually witnesses you talking to a guy, he’s quick to jump in.

he’s not subtle at all about it and immediately gets very touchy with you, kissing your cheek and neck in front of the dude as a ‘joke’ and goes out of his way to mock and make fun of the person in question. he will whine and beg you to leave and once you’re away from the person he asks you millions of questions, especially whether or not you were attracted to them.

just like billy, he wants the person dead and for the rest of the day all he can think about is ripping their intestines out and crucifying them to a wall. his imagination runs wild with all the ways he wanted to kill him. he asks billy about it, but billy couldn’t be bothered to care that much and unless it was really, genuinely bothering stu he’d tell him to take care of it himself. after the first three guys billy had helped stu kill all cause of his jealousy, he couldn’t be bothered anymore and he knew you would start to get suspicious. every guy you talked to was disappearing at this rate.

彡 “hey babe, who’s this?” stu jogs up to you from behind, almost crashing into your back as he slings an arm around your shoulder lazily and looks at you with a shit eating grin.

“jackson.” the man introduces himself before you can to the macher killer, and stu swivels his head to the boy. his jealousy only furthering deeper as he noticed the man to be wearing a school football uniform, a jock.

“aww, i wasn’t asking you, jason.” stu’s face falls completely and you turn to him with a devastated look, feeling embarrassed in front of your classmate. “i was asking my beautiful girlfriend.” he pulls you closer to him, his big signature wide mouth smile making its way back over his face. “dont you think she’s beautiful? isn’t she just so pretty? come on jerry you can be honest, my girlfriends hot, isn’t she?” the boys tone had drastically went from playful to deadly, like he was testing him

“stu macher, this is my english teachers teaching assistant!” you warn, your face flushing a red color at stu’s outburst but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to care at all as he doesn’t even look at you, taking a bit of a step closer to the jock.

“oh, so you’re smart then, huh? well, clearly not that much, wearing something as tacky as that. you get dressed in the dark this morning?” he sticks his tongue out, laughing at his own joke and apparently thinking it was the funniest thing in the world as he starts to giggle with a crazed look in his eye, and though jackson felt offended and wanted nothing more than to step forward and suckerpunch macher right in the face, something about the way his eyes held mania and instability freaked the jock out.

he scoffed, rolling his eyes and walking away from the couple. jackson doesn’t even make it three feet away and you can’t get the words out to scold your boyfriend for his behavior before he’s turning you to face him and holding both your shoulders, a serious look on his face.

“babe, be honest with me, did you think he’s cute?”

ೄྀ࿐ SIDNEY PRESCOTT ˊˎ-

sidney was a fairly innocent girl who wasn’t used to all the feelings that came along in a relationship, and she never could quite put a label on the word she felt when she saw you talking to other girls. not every girl, just the ones who in her own eyes were particularly pretty or were openly flirty.

she found it hard to trust again after her last relationship, obviously not ending well since he killed all/most her friends and then tried to go after her, but after some time once she started to heal and you showed her love and how a healthy relationship should look and act she was quick to ease into the breath of fresh air you gave her.

she pouts a bit when she’s jealous, and she doesn’t make too big of a deal out of it. depending on her scale of jealousy she’d either mention it briefly to you so you could reassure her or she’d just make sure to be extra lovey with you the rest of the day to earn more of your love and give you extra of hers.

unlike stu or billy she doesn’t make herself present in the conversation, she’ll usually glance from a distance and maybe bring it up to her friends to ask about the girl you were talking to. not that she’d do anything with the information anyway. if she ends up meeting the girl, whether it’s while she’s with you or running into her when it’s just the two of them, she’s very friendly and would even try befriending the person to see the kind of people you surround yourself with.

彡 sidney watched from a short distance the interaction you shared with a girl who’s face was unfamiliar to her. she stood by her locker, face half hidden by the door and taking a glance in your direction every couple minutes.

she couldn’t deny that there was something about seeing you talk to another girl who in her mind was one of the most gorgeous people she’s ever seen, definitely far prettier than her, making her stomach twist and turn with uneasiness.

gnawing her lip a bit she tried to pay no mind to it, being respectful as she waited for you to finish your conversation so you could walk home together like you usually do. her patience worked as it often did, and within minutes she felt your hands snake around her back, and a sweet kiss being pressed to her temple. “hey sid.” you greeted, and she hummed, leaning her weight back into your arms.

“hi.” her voice rasped, a soft and gentle whisper and a smile made its way to her features while she turned around to face you, holding her hand out for you to take, which you gladly did.

“ready to go?”

“yeah.” she smiled, and you briskly leaned in to connect your lips with hers. her heart fluttered at the action and all her worries melted away. there was no reason to be jealous, she was definitely overreacting. she trusted you and the love you had for her.

ೄྀ࿐ WES HICKS ˊˎ-

by nature, wes was a very trusting and caring person. he’s gotten jealous maybe a total of two times throughout your entire relationship. he may have occasional worries, but it’s not typically jealousy he feels. he gets more insecure than he does jealous and reflects it on himself; wondering if he’s really good enough to be your boyfriend.

he is often very protective over you and while there are times you notice his body tense or a light touch of his hand pressed to the small of your back it’s not really jealousy he’s feeling, growing up in a household where his mother is a cop he was raised to be on high alert at all times; afraid a guy might do something to mess with you or make you uncomfortable.

however, on the very very few occasions where it’s jealousy he’s feeling rather than simple protectiveness, he seems to go eerily quiet. his eyes dart back and fourth from your face to the persons, studying your interaction and the body language you’re giving off. if asked about it he’ll brush it off as nothing and force a reassuring smile that fades the second you look away and forms again when you look back.

he won’t mention it ever again and within a few hours he’s back to his normal self. but unless you’re able to notice his jealousy the second it starts, he’s not one to talk or ask about it.

彡 the sun was shining down on the both of you as you sat outside against the tree located right outside tara’s house. you had made plans with all of your friends to have a big hangout and like usual you and your boyfriend had strayed off from the rest of the group to have some alone time.

wes was always huge on private intimacy and liked it better when it was just the two of you. not anything against his friends, he loved all of them, it was just nice to spend time with just his partner. mindy, tara and chad payed no attention as the couple wondered off outside and perched themselves against a woodsy tree. wes had his back completely against the tree, legs widened while you sat between them, your back on his chest and his head on his shoulder while he held onto your body with protective arms; his muscles flexing against you.

you were laughing at something the bleached-haired boy had said when your alone time was cut short, the sound of a door opening and chad stepping outside.

“what’re you two losers doing?” he asked, a teasing lopsided grin on his face as he approached you two after closing the door.

“hey chad, just hanging out.” you greet him with a smile and wes greets him with a ‘hey’ as well, still keeping his arms secured around you.

“mind if i join you? those two girls are kind of driving me crazy right now.” he chuckles, sitting down in front of the both of you and not paying any mind to the fact that you were both cuddled up. “(y/n), you should’ve stayed inside. mindy started recreating a scene from the mummy, it was sorta funny but made me concerned about my relations to her.” you don’t question why chad had aimed the conversation towards you but it’s enough for wes’ jaw to clench against your shoulder before he brought his head up all together and off of you.

“really? wow, im sorry i missed it.” you laugh a bit and chad smiles and laughs with you as you do. you wish you could see your boyfriends face right now as he then removed his arms from around you as well, but since you were sitting up against him you couldn’t turn around and see without making it obvious.

you try not to pay any attention to his sudden change in behavior as you continue making friendly banter with chad, noticing wes completely going mute until he dismisses himself with a toothless smile and a small apology, going back inside and leaving you and chad alone and confused.

ೄྀ࿐ ETHAN LANDRY ˊˎ-

ethan gets jealous over you almost every other day, sometimes just by simply thinking about you with someone else. he doesn’t even have to see you talk to someone, or flirt, or interact; he often accidentally makes himself jealous at the idea of being jealous. when he’s jealous he then gets flustered, and has no idea how to express the way he’s feeling.

when he actually sees someone flirting with you though, it ignites a fire in him that would sometimes scare himself. obviously he’s a violent guy, but when it comes to a potential threat between your relationship it only intensifies. he’d kill the person in the most brutal way imaginable, even torturing or fucking with them before hand.

assuming you don’t yet know about his ghostface identity, he’s still the sweet, awkward and adorable ethan youve grown to know and love. in the moment he won’t do much about it, maybe standing behind you and locking eye contact with the person, resting a hand on your hip with fragility and having mock friendliness. the second they leave though is when he gets more vocal about it, pestering you with questions and dread spilling throughout his body the more he thinks about it.

however if you were already aware of his identity he wouldn’t bother to hide his disdain, looking at the mystery person with pure unfiltered disgust and hatred as he kept you close to him and dismissed you from the conversation himself. if they dared to try and intervene or call him out on his behavior they’d better prepare for a good beating, he wouldn’t hesitate before pushing them to the ground and kicking them in the stomach and all over their body repeatedly like a typical 80s bully. he’d come back for the final kill another time when you weren’t with him.

彡 “can we go? im tired.” a very grumpy brunette mumbled from his spot next to you, defensively staring at the male you were talking to. an ‘old friend’ of yours.

“one second e,” you dismissed him without so much as a glance, continuing in your conversation with the guy in front of you. he was maybe 5’10, dark brown hair and hazel green eyes that ethan imagined running red with blood and tears. ethan could definitely take him in a fight.

he was quiet for about a whole minute before he sighs, rather loudly, glancing around the room and waiting for you to notice him. when you don’t face him at his first sigh, ethan let’s out a second huff of air, louder this time.

and you ignore him again. and he sighs again. and again. and agai-

“ethan, i swear to god.” you lecture, finally turning to face him and the guy in front of you laughs a bit at the two of you, which only makes ethan feel angrier.

“im tired. please can we go. pleasee!” he whines, articulating his best puppy dog eyes as he bats his long and dark lashes at you. and of course it works, it always does.

you agree, waving your friend goodbye who understands and sends you off with a smile. as you walk back to your dorms the questions finally roll in.

who was that guy? where’d you meet? did he go to school with the both of you? how long have you known him? what’s his relationship with his family like? do you think hes funny?

you humor him as much as you can before the questions start to get more and more invasive and you finally shut him down, leaving him with a pout as he sadly stares at the floor, making you feel bad and quickly cupping his face and peppering kisses all over. he smiles finally.

by the end of the day, none of the questions actually mattered. ethan decided already the second you approached him that he was a dead man.

ೄྀ࿐ TARA CARPENTER ˊˎ-

contrary to popular belief, tara could actually get jealous quite frequently. though it’s not as often as others on the list, she’s lost a good amount of people in her life and isn’t about to risk loosing the few she now has left.

when she’s jealous she can get snappy as well as sarcastic, to both you and the person she’s feeling jealous of. it’s either that, or she’s just sickeningly nice to both of you to mask her feelings. so sweet in fact that it’s mostly taken as being mocked by the one on the receiving end, which is usually what it is anyway.

she’ll stand by you as you converse, her arms crossed defensively and an rbf like you’ve never seen, but if you try to leave the conversation or ask her if something’s up she’ll tell you to just keep talking to the other person in an annoyed voice.

彡 “you’re so funny!” you blush a bit, embarrassed by the sudden compliment and attention you were receiving from the girl in front of you that originally only approached you for a question she had about the homework in the math class you shared.

“you’re SO funny!” behind you, an annoyed tara mocks the girl, raising her voice to sound high pitched and squeaky as she defensively held her arms crossed against her chest.

“tara,” you mumble, glancing at her expectantly and she sends you a glare, huffing and turning her head away from the both of you.

the girl in front of you awkwardly scratches her head and you give her a sympathetic smile. “thank you maria. ill see you tomorrow.” she nods, sending you an appreciative smile back before glancing at your girlfriend for a second and then quickly away as she realizes the girl was already glaring in her direction before walking away from the two of you.

you sigh, turning to face your girlfriend who still looks pissed off, a grouchy look on her face and arms crossed as she meets your eyes. “tara.” you repeat her name, saying so many things without saying another word. she sighs, dropping her arms back to her sides and looking away from you now in a bit of embarrassment.

“sorry.” she mutters, not meeting your eyes.

“no you’re not.”

she smirks a little. “no im not.”

ೄྀ࿐ MINDY MEEKS MARTIN ˊˎ-

( ↺ please only read mindys if you identify as female !! )

mindy isn’t often the jealous type and doesn’t really see many people if any at all as a threat to her. especially for no reason. the only exception for her small bursts of jealousy is when someone knows you’re dating and still goes out of their way to make a move on you.

when this happens she gets rather ticked off, probably yelling at or lecturing the person for trying to hit on someone while knowing they’re in a happy relationship. and she’ll really specify that happy bit as if to rub it in their face.

her fits don’t last very long and though she may continue to pout over it for maybe 10 minutes max afterwards all it takes is a little reassuring and she’s back to her usual self. all in all, if she’s jealous she’ll speak out about it herself.

彡 “mindy, look at me.” you instruct your girlfriend, who in fact does not look at you as she zones off into the distance with an aggravated expression.

“i do not understand how some people have the nerve. i mean seriously, she knew you had a girlfriend, she knew that girl was me, and she still went out of her way to flirt with you.” rambling on, you’re unable to get the short haired girl’s attention as she’s lost in thought.

“mindy, will you look at me?” you repeat, currently crouched down in front of her while she rocked back and fourth on a recliner.

“it’s just- it’s so frustrating! she’s such a- a- a snake!” this emits a soft chuckle to part from your lips and you finally decide to just make your girlfriend look at you instead of desperately calling out for her which didn’t seem to be working.

“i love you.” you affirm, cupping the both of her cheeks. the martin girl blushes a bit, taken off guard.

“what?”

“i love you.”

“i love you too, baby.” she smiles, and you lean up to initiate a soft kiss, her current thoughts pausing temporarily.

by the time you pull away she’s looking at you like you’re the only thing left in the world, cheekily smiling while you continue holding her face in your hands.

“sorry for making a scene back there.” she apologies, referring to back when the entire situation went down and she ended up yelling at the girl who was trying to make a move on you in the first place.

“it’s okay. it was cute. turned me on a little.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.” you giggled, and mindy was fast to forget about the entire situation as her priorities shifted entirely to you.

ೄྀ࿐ CHAD MEEKS MARTIN ˊˎ-

depending on how long the two of you have been together is how chad would go about handling his own jealousy. if the relationship is fairly new or it’s only in the talking stage, he’s the type to go flirt with someone else to make you jealous back, even though you weren’t doing it intentionally.

if you’re about 3 months or so into the relationship though or if he’d liked you for a really long time he wouldn’t resort to that. instead he’d try his best to intimidate the person, keep an arm around you and amplify his personality.

he’d constantly interrupt the two of you rather rudely and make his own conversation, add his own thoughts or ask random questions to the stranger. he’s shameless about it too and does it all with a smile. he’d be friendly enough to the person, trying to make his own opinion on them.

would definitely be unnecessarily affectionate, holding your hand and pressing kisses to the back of your palm or making you randomly sit on one of his legs while bouncing you up and down.

彡 you groaned a bit, your boyfriend now interrupting the conversation for what felt like the twentieth time as he continued to make his presence known, both arms hung over your shoulders as he has you pressed into his chest and his head hovering over yours.

“chad, honey, what are you doing?” you finally ask, excusing yourself for a moment from your friend to talk privately.

“what?” he feigns obliviousness, a knowing smirk on his face as he reached his hands out for you again, pulling you closer to him and resting his hands on your waist.

“you know what.” you sigh, hating the fact you were already trying to fight back a smile the boy made contort on your face.

“just tryna get to know your friends.” he shrugged, leaning a little closer to you. “seeing what’s up. making sure there’s no competition.”

you roll your eyes, finally a small laugh leaving your lips.

“but chad, i get doing that to my guy friends, i guess, but do you really have to do that to the girls too?”

“what? my sisters gay, im just being precautious. nothing unusual.” he shrugged innocently and you smiled as he pulled you into a hug.

“wait, you have guy friends?”

.ೃ࿐ a/n : this took so long to finish , towards the last couple the quality kinda worsened cause i spent all day writing these and finished those ones at night

started 08.05.23. finished 08.05.23.

( scream masterlist )

©️nolovelingers 2023

[eelnoise]

supplicate (nsfw!)

18+ MDNI!

Trafalgar Law x afab!reader cw: mild brat taming, teasing, edging, snarky law, piv sex, creampie an: this one kinda went overboard and was not meant to be this long. it was supposed to be two drabbles for both zoro and law but i kinda got carried away. i'll post them separately or whatever idk. tagging: @bby-deerling @themushroomofdeath @risenwrites @kaizokuniichan @strawheart-pirate

At this rate you were going to kill him.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair as his jeans tighten again. You’d been at it all day – touching and teasing him every chance you get. Running your fingers down his arm when you bring him coffee and lingering far longer than you usually do before departing with a small smirk across your lips, not-so-subtly unzipping your boiler suit just enough for him to get a glance of the soft flesh that lies beneath when you cross paths throughout the day’s work, and he doesn’t miss the sultry, half lidded gaze that seems to follow wherever he goes.

Must be some kind of cruel joke, he thinks. Something you and Ikkaku had conspired together to conjure just to drive him up the wall. Law wasn’t keen on any of the crew knowing of your shared… situation, though considering the fondness you have of your crewmate, he should’ve known it was inevitable. And usually, he pays it no mind – so long as he isn’t bothered by any unwelcome, irritating comments or jabs.

But today it eats at him, riles him until your very image is superimposed onto the backs of his eyelids. As much as it pains Law to admit – your stubborn attempt at teasing him had worked, and probably much more than you even knew. Of course, he could simply take care of the ever growing, insistent need for you right now – right here in his office, and without you. He considers it for a moment as he leans back in his chair. There's poetic irony in the thought, and he chuckles selfishly to himself imagining the look on your face when he doesn’t give what you think you’ve won.

Though why deny himself the sweetened privilege of correcting your impish behavior? You’ve earned it at this point, a victory certainly – though perhaps not quite the prize you seek. Law’s mind reels with possibility, bringing him to a point of distraction that leaves him unable to focus on his own tasks. He wants to teach you a lesson, wants to hear you beg, whine, writhe beneath him, pleading for release that he plans on withholding until your absolute limit. 

The way his cock throbs painfully against his thigh gives him an answer that he can’t ignore, and without a second – more rational – thought, utters a near-silent “Room. Shambles.” 

Suddenly it doesn’t matter where you were or what you were doing. And Law isn’t surprised when you appear before him looking smug and as expectant as ever. 

“Took you long enough,” You begin, the coy edge to your voice cutting through the silence that had been his prison for the past few hours. “Thought maybe-”

Law slides backwards away from his desk and cuts you off with a snap of his fingers – a sure signal for you to keep your mouth shut. “Strip, and make it quick.” The way you shiver from his words alone does not go unnoticed, lips twitching upward at just how easy it is to make you come apart from him.

Spurned onward by both his demeanor and his obvious predisposition, you hastily peel your layers off and leave them in a heap around your feet and step toward him. Law leans back and places his elbows on either arm of his chair. Seems like you’re going to have to work for it.

He only assists you with a slight raise of his hips when you move to free his cock from its confines and allows you to pull his jeans and underwear down as you see fit to do. Instinctively you lean down with means to wrap your lips around him, but Law grabs you by the forearm and clicks his teeth – twisting you around to settle into his lap. 

Law reaches down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you into a position that aligns himself near perfectly with you, and pressing your back to the edge of the wooden desk. You gasp when he glides his length along your slick folds, an excited half-mewl that lets him know that you’re exactly where he wants you to be. He delights in the sight of you trying in vain to roll your hips for any sort of friction, but his hold on you is too heavy and the attempts get you nowhere. “Law – come on!” 

At your frustrated plea, Law tilts his head forward to peer at you with a knowing smirk on his lips. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be talking,” He purrs smoothly, breathing hot upon your neck. “Let alone making demands.” 

He ruts his hips slowly – painfully – against you. Whines befall your lips as he lazily slides his cock up and down your pussy, making sure to press just a little harder against your clit. Law knows what makes you tick, having analyzed and researched each reaction to his ministries over the years at sea. He knows just how to make you cry out in limited bliss, how to inch you right to the precipice of paradise – only to whisk it away at the blink of an eye.

Why should you get away so easily?

Still tight within his grip, you’re at his will. Each stroke of him against your walls, feeling every throb of his cock within you leaves you a whiny, needy mess. The frustration turned ecstasy in your gaze cracks his guise further, though not enough to unmask him – yet.

He’d never admit it at a time like this, but the way you sound, the way you feel, the way your expressions twist and curve at his teasing – he needs you like a man needs food. And deciding that you’ve had your fill of his game is a good enough excuse to up the ante.

Law guides himself to your entrance, and using the abundance of slick that glistens along his flesh, eases you onto him. You hiss out a moan as he bottoms out, and a moment later he’s bouncing you up and down his cock, pace still unhurried and languid. 

It's agony, sweet and unsated passion that you’re not being given despite your best attempts goading both now and throughout the day. Your laments fall on deaf ears as Law continues his tortuous campaign, pulling you down onto him until your hips are flush together, letting the head of his cock twitch against the spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back in your head. You’re desperate, the need for him begins to outweigh your tolerance of his little game – so you do the one thing that you know will make him crumble.

You reach out for him, pressing a hand to his cheek to lead him into a tender kiss. Law’s eyes widen in surprise, but cannot help to fall into your trick. He closes them and leans into you, deepening the lip lock and groaning in satisfaction. You slip your tongue between his lips and the grip on you loosens enough to allow you to more freely grind on him. 

It takes Law a moment to come to his senses, too lost in kiss and affection to notice that you’d taken control. He breaks the gesture with a growl and a feral grin to match, and that's all the warning you get before he stands up from the chair and folds you backward onto the surface of the desk. Papers crease and books shift as he presses your thighs up to your chest, his cock drilling into your core as fast and as hard as he can give you.

“So fucking needy,” Law taunts, hovering his head just out of your reach. “Look at you. You’re desperate. Drooling for the thing only I can give you, isn’t that right?” He follows up the words with a smack to your thigh and a low chuckle. 

So much do you want to speak, though words fail you again and again. You’ve been reduced to nods and wails of pleasure, and Law is living for it.

He brings you to the edge so many times, and only a handful does he allow you to leap. Law’s stamina doesn’t give, and just when you think he’s close he stalls to a near stop – leaving you breathless and panting and giving you some respite before slamming his hips back into yours until the sound of skin against skin echo throughout his cabin once more. “Law, I can’t–” You wearily exclaim, tears pecking at your eyes beyond the hazy, fucked-out gaze you’re giving him. “It’s too much, I can’t…”

“Of course you can,” Law directs from above you. He clasps your jaw with one of his hands, lithe fingers grasping and forcing your face toward his. “You’ll take everything I have to give you since you’re being so good for me now, won’t you?”

The familiar tug from low in your belly pulls once more at his words, and in an instant you’re cumming again around his cock again. His name falls from your tongue like it's the only word in your vocabulary, and it sends his mind reeling. Law’s words eventually deceive him, and soon enough he’s digging his nails into your thigh and sighing into your neck as he fills you to the brim with his own cum.

The moment stalls, and for a moment Law looks at you, the hand nearest to your face coming to rest gently upon your cheek. You offer him a smile, and it makes his heart skip a beat. It always does. Law leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, and trailing an even softer one to your lips. It isn’t something he says often, what he’s saying to you now. The simple phrase is a whisper on his tongue, and made only for your ears – it's one you return just as quietly, though almost too eagerly.

After all, you do love him.

[httpswritings]

ALE(xia): Average Lesbian Experience — Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: lesbophobia, having trouble accepting oneself, angst.

Word count: 1326

Summary: A lie almost breaks your friendship.

A/N: Two things; Both Alexia and Reader are 21 years old, so this is set in 2015. Also, in Spain you use the word tía as a way of saying sis, same thing as tio and the word dude in English.

“C'mon Ale! Don't be a coward!“

She smiled at you, shaking her head. “I'm not going there, tía.”

You approached her, reaching for her hand, as you tried to convince her to get into the sea. It was a sunny and warm day in Barcelona. You were all wet from crashing against the waves, as Alexia had been looking at you, laughing when you were surprised by a wave that would push you, making you swallow some water.

Alexia shook her head again.

“Ale...Please?” Alexia dragged you by your left arm, pulling you into her as she began tickling you. Her hands touching the bare skin of your stomach send shivers throughout your body.

Your playful game was interrupted by two boys around your age.

“You both seem to be enjoying the beach. Wanna have some good company?”

The boys were particularly looking at you.

Alexia felt anger filling every part of her body. She was aware of how in love she was with you, and she also knew that she had to pretend not to be, as she didn't want to scare you.

She accepted herself but couldn't help but feel gross at the thought of her loving you.

She looked at the two boys, who were asking for your number, and compared herself to them. Was she better for you than them? «Without any doubt» she thought. You denied both of their requests.

With a timid smile forming on her face, she felt victorious, even if she apparently didn't have any reason to be.

What Alexia didn't know is that you've been in love with her since high school.

Always admiring her from afar, even when she was the closest to you.

You had to learn how to not react to the physical attention she showed you.

When you saw the two boys getting interested in her and began to ask her questions like her age, where she lived, and finally asking for her number, you wanted nothing but to punch them in the face.

It wasn't envy; you didn't mind Alexia getting attention from people. It was a deeper feeling.

Alexia looked at you, but your eyes were fixated on the two boys, who were smiling and checking Alexia out, looking throughout her body, making you want to throw up.

“I'm not interested either; I'm sorry.”

Those words brought you to life, and you finally looked at her.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Your world fell apart right after hearing those words come out of her mouth.

The boys finally got a no for an answer and left.

You didn't realize they did, though.

“Are you alright? It's okay; they had already left.”

You couldn't look at Alexia properly.

The girl who had your heart had given hers to another person.

Your mind was so loud, despite you being so quiet. Not a word left your mouth after hearing Alexia's statement.

“You're worrying me. Please, answer me!”

You couldn't hold it anymore and eventually broke down crying.

Alexia hugged you, and you enjoyed your time in her embrace, knowing it'd be the closest you'd be to her.

“Did they scare you that much?“

Still no words.

“If you don't answer me, I'm going to call someone.”

Someone.

You don't know why, but that word triggered you to the point where you snapped.

“Someone? Like your boyfriend?”

Alexia laughed, and that broke your heart into more pieces, if that was even possible. Alexia thought you were teasing her, as she didn't think you had believed her to have a boyfriend, when it was just an excuse to get out of that previous situation.

“Alexia, I have to go home. I'm late.” You stood up quickly, as you couldn't bear the embarrassment you felt about yourself anymore.

Alexia grabbed you by your right arm, but you harshly shook her arm off you.

You heard her whine, and it was enough for you to stop and approach her.

No pain was worse than the slightest hurt to Alexia.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Have you gone mad?”

Alexia was hurting, but because of your actions, not because of a silly shake. You had changed the way you behaved towards her when, not even ten minutes ago, you were laughing and begging her to get into the sea with you.

She couldn't understand the way you were behaving.

“Listen, if it's because of the boys, I'm sorry that they've asked me out too, but I swear I didn't—”

“God, Alexia, why can't you see it? It's not because of those boys; it's because of a boy. Your boyfriend. When were you going to tell me that you were with someone?” Alexia tried to speak, but you didn't let her, as you kept ranting.

“You want to know why I'm like this? Because I'm in love with you. I thought I was okay with only being your friend, but when you said you had a boyfriend, I wanted to die. Yeah, it's that dramatic because I've loved you since high school in a way friends aren't supposed to love each other. I'm sorry if this hurts you, but I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend to be okay now that I know someone else is in your life. Because, as dumb as it sounds, I had a tiny hope of you being in love with me.”

 

Alexia jumped into your arms, not letting you pull out of the hug. “Please, let's stay like this for a few seconds. Please. Please.” and you gave up on the idea of getting out of her embrace and enjoying her warmth.

Alexia looked at you. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't seem sad but relieved.

“I don't have a boyfriend. I don't even like boys, silly. I like girls, especially one who's looking at me quite confused right now.”

You were shocked. Too much information in such a short time. “If I told them I had a boyfriend, it's because I knew they were going to back off. Men respect other men. If I told them I was a lesbian, they'd probably insist on going on a date with me because many of them believe that lesbians haven't found the right man. It's quite sad, but it's what they believe.”

 

You've been there too, so you get what Alexia means. Even if Spain were one of the most LGBT-friendly countries on earth, no one would be 100% safe, far less as a lesbian.

“So, you like me?” You said this as you looked down at your hands, needing confirmation of Alexia's feelings towards you.

“Yes. I've liked you since we met in high school, but I never said anything. I was scared of losing you, so I had to learn how to put my feelings aside. You didn't notice how in love I was—I am with you. But it hasn't been an easy task, especially when people would come at you and ask you out, like those boys before, but you always rejected them, no matter if they were boys or girls, so I was scared of being rejected too.”

“Why do you think I rejected them?” you asked, laughing.

“I know. Now I know...” Alexia laughed too.

“Maybe you should try now.”

“Not here.”

-

Alexia brought you to your old high school.

It was closed as it was mid-July.

“I should've done this here five years ago, but now that we both know how we feel, I wanted to ask you if you would give me the privilege of being your girlfriend.”

You smiled, and before jumping into her arms, you accepted.

Memories of you and Alexia in high school came to your mind.

Gossiping in class, drawing on each other's hands, helping each other with studies.

The love you two shared was always there; it just needed a little time and another place to flourish, and now that you were adults, you weren't scared anymore.

[softgreengrass]

The Gold

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: angst, au where clint dies on vormir instead of natasha, set a few months after endgame, relationship troubles😬

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: survivor’s guilt, breakup

Author’s Note: based on “the gold” by manchester orchestra and phoebe bridgers

You wake to birds chirping. Natasha has opened the window. She’s nowhere to be seen, probably in the kitchen or out for a run. All at once, a crushing melancholy falls onto your chest, the one that’s been appearing with increasing frequency ever since she returned.

She hadn’t wanted to come back; anyone could see that. She wished she was dead instead of Clint, instead of Tony. And she meant it. She wanted to be dead.

Because of that, it had never felt like a victory to you. You knew the others agreed —Wanda, Peter, Bucky— but that didn’t make it much easier.

Even the things Thanos hadn’t taken, he had changed.

You get up slowly, all too aware of the lump in your throat and the fragility of your heart. If Natasha so much as looks at you wrong this morning, you’ll lose it. Again.

You know she’s tired of it, of your mood swings and sensitivity, but it all stems from her and she knows that too. Those first few weeks after her return had set a certain tone.

Natasha is standing at the kitchen counter, staring at the coffee pot. You know why instantly. You always do.

“I forgot how he used to drink straight from this,” she murmurs.

“I know.”

You’ve grown used to Natasha’s blank stare: it doesn’t twist your heart the way it used to. Some days you think she found your biggest store of sympathy and dried it all up. You shuffle past her, open the freezer, and pull out hash browns.

“I was going to visit Laura today,” she says numbly.

“You visited her yesterday, baby,” you say, glancing up at her as you dump the hash browns onto a pan. “I think she’s okay for today.”

Natasha swallows. You can see the pain in her eyes, the sinkhole of regret. “I don’t have any other plans.”

“You could stay home with me.”

Your tone is neutral, but you know she picks up on the hope in it. And you can feel the distance that grows between you the longer she takes to answer.

“Come on, Nat,” you smile, like your eyes aren’t already stinging with tears.

“I want to be useful,” she pleads. “I… you’re too good to me here. I can’t be useful.”

It takes you a second to process what on earth she could possibly mean. Natasha stands quietly.

In another life, you could’ve said the words on your tongue. Could’ve told her that you need her like water, that the most useful thing she could possibly do is just be with you. But you know you can survive without her. At this point she must know that too.

And yet, there’s something yearning in her eyes, like she has faith in you.

The hash browns crackle and give you an excuse to look at them instead of her.

Somewhere deep inside of you, you know Natasha has always been fine without you. She doesn’t love you in the way you love her, in the way that would summon sympathy and energy out of thin air. She used to, maybe. It’s all bitter on your tongue.

She clears her throat. “I got an email. Apparently they want to give us medals.“

“You brought back half the universe. The least you deserve is a medal.”

You know what she wants to say to that. The silence is frustrated and thick, the lump in your throat quickly returning. You hate that nothing is easy anymore.

“I’m going to Laura’s,” she says eventually.

You can’t find it in you to respond; you can barely make yourself nod. The oil on the pan bubbles and spatters violently, and you realize that’s how your blood feels, singing your arteries and your veins and your heart.

When the door closes behind her, you close your eyes.

Your dad’s face comes to mind. “Don’t open your eyes for a while,” he used to say, his voice gravelly but gentle. “Just breathe that moment down.”

It had helped, especially in your teenage years when you were quick to anger and quicker to hurt. Regret used to swallow you whole. You had told Natasha that once, years ago, when you visited his grave together for the first time. She had been polite.

You don’t want to resent her. God, how you don’t. But the past couple of months have worn you down to the bone, and it would be one thing if she was fighting too, but she gave up on that cliff. You don’t know how much longer you can do all the caring for.

And it’s not like your relationship was perfect before, either. You had met her at a high point. It had always been a steady decline.

A hard wave of guilt nearly knocks the breath out of you, and you have to grip the counter to keep your balance. You love her. You’ll fight for as long as you can.

You eat the burnt hash browns right out of the pan, even though you don’t feel hungry.

By ten, Natasha still hasn’t come home, and you’re back in bed, blinking back more tears, since that feels like all you do nowadays. Now accompanying the gloom and guilt in your ribcage is an unrelenting discomfort. It’s that same old helpless feeling, the one that knows things are going to change and there’s nothing you can do about it.

The vertigo of it all rocks you to sleep.

You make it another week before one of Natasha’s nightmares wakes you up and you’re so full of discontent you can’t breathe. Still, you swallow it down and find her hand in the dark.

“Nat, you’re right here,” you whisper.

A squeeze of her hand and she opens her eyes, frantically looking around.

“It was just a dream.”

Wild eyes find your own; a sheen of sweat coats her face. Her breath heaves. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” The words burn in your throat. How many times will you have to tell her that?

Her head falls back against the pillow with a sigh.

Your eyes ache for sleep, but then there it is again, that realization that soon you might never be in bed with her again. You’re not sure how to appreciate it fully.

“Are you hungry?” she asks coarsely, staring up at the ceiling.

You’re not. “I could eat.”

She smears peanut butter onto toast into the kitchen, gives the first one to you. It must be the millionth time the two of you have been in the kitchen together, dark circles under your eyes and hair frizzy.

“You know I wish none of that ever happened,” Natasha says softly.

“Of course,” you furrow your brow. “I wish it didn’t either.”

“No, I mean,” she huffs. “I wish we didn’t change. I wish I didn’t change.”

It’s like something has pierced your heart. You can’t find anything to say to comfort her, because you wish that just as much as she does.

“I don’t want you to go,” she admits, her bottom lip quivering. “But I don’t want to hold you back just because I’m stuck.”

“Nat…”

She swallows thickly. “It’s your choice.”

You hate that you already know your answer, that you’ve known it for so long. You hate it.

Your arms wrap around her tightly as you take in her softness and her scent again. Her cheek is damp against your shoulder, your own eyes welling with relentless tears.

It feels like stiff fingers prodding at your throat and your chest: it makes you want to curl into a ball. You’re horrified at the idea of a life without her, especially one where you know she’s still walking around. But it’s either drown or freefall, and you need to give yourself a chance.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you mutter into her neck.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “I’m sorry too.”

She holds you as wave after wave of bittersweet relief and regret crash over you, and you fall asleep in each other’s arms once more. The next morning she helps you gather your things.

[halucynator]

Hi! Could I please request a FIC abt Mattheo or Theodore (I’m in love with them both) and the reader always picks her hangnails (to fidget bc she is on the spectrum and has adhd) and they get her to stop by alway holding her hands and she goes to his quidditch game? (I love your fics sm)

Good luck charm

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: like none? do tell if I missed any xx

Summary: (just like read the request I cba)

A/n: thanks for the request and thank you SO much for the compliment💞! Sorry for the wait xx I wrote it about mattheo because I'm in my mattheo era (plus I feel like theo wouldn't be the sporty type) but I will write a Theodore version as well if you're okay with waiting xx I also happen to have ADHD lol so I just related the story to myself. English isn't my first language so there might be mistakes xx not proof read. I don't love it but I don't hate it either xx hope you like it x

reblogs are appreciated xx

You sat down in Snape's potion class after you got scolded for being 5 minutes late. His classes were SO boring. Your ADHD didn't help either. You grabbed your quill and started to doodle but were shortly stopped by Snape shouting at you for the second time in a 15 minute span.

You rolled your eyes and looked for something to fiddle with. I mean, how could it be your fault that you had ADHD? Was it really that wrong that you needed to fiddle with something to concentrate? Snape definitely made it seem like a sin.

You noticed a hangnail on your finger and started to pick on that. Snape could take that away from you. I mean, was he going to cut off your fingers? As you pulled on the hangnail, you felt a little sting and you knew if your bare flesh made contact with even a drop of water, it would burn. This wasn't avoidable either especially since you were in potions. But you could worry about that later. As long as you could concentrate.

"You need to stop doing that. It looks painful. Plus it isn't healthy." Mattheo comments as be places his hand on yours. It's a comforting feeling but you feel uneasy, looking for something else to fiddle with.

"but I can't! I have ADHD."

"There's got to be better ways to cope."

"there's nothing else to fiddle with"

"Here." He slips one of his rings off his fingers and hands it to you.

"are you sure" you ask.

"yes love." He replies.

And so you fiddle with his silver ring the rest of the lesson but find it hard to with him holding one of your hand captive. You wanted to ask to move it, but you didn't want him to feel upset plus you kinda liked the feeling of his warm hand on your freezing cold one.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You were excited for the quidditch match, Slytherin against Gryffindor. You walked up to Pansy, Theodore and Blaise, your group of friends, as you spotted then among the crowd which was dripping with anticipation.

As the game started, you found yourself searching for a particular brown, curly haired boy.

As you spotted him, aiming to score, you felt yourself blushing. As he scored half of the crowd cheered in excitement, and the other half groaned in frustration. As you locked eyes with the brunette boy, you caught hun winning at you which made you turn even more red than you already were if that was possible.

The game ended with Slytherin being victorious (which was a first).

After the game you walked up to Mattheo to congratulate him.

"I've never been to a quidditch match before but I heard this was Slytherin's first victory against Gryffindor."

"Guess you are a good luck charm." He smiled at you.

You blushed. Something about that comment felt genuine, like it was more than just a joke.

"Ah, is that so? You were amazing out there by the way."

"Only for you princess." He winked at you. "I assumed you were awestruck by me. I caught you staring." he grinned.

You blushed as you started to fiddle with your hangnail again. You felt a comforting hand on yours. Mattheo's hand.

"Now now love. We talked about this. Use my rings instead."

You felt nice that Mattheo cared about you. You smiled at him, trying to keep your composure. You felt like kissing him right there and then but you didn't.

Your friends walked up to Mattheo and congratulated him for the win, snapping you out of your daydream about the brunette boy who, at this very moment, was holding your hand.

"You could say we had a good luck charm." He winked at you.

You chuckled at the statement. Girlfriend had a better ring to it, but for now you settled for 'A good luck charm.'

[alexwritingspot]

okk um instead could you do a percy x fem!reader with prompt 1?? And could you do it so its kinda like they are already in an established relationship and throughout the week he realises that slowly his gf has been a bit more distant and nearly getting hurt in training from being so out of it, and them whilst theyre just hanging out in his cabin he asks her whats wrong n yadyada 😍😍

Sorry if that didnt really make sense but thankyouuuu❤❤

Are you alright?

Your boyfriend gets worried about you after seeing you stress out so much

Prompt 1: “hey, c’mere sit down, tell me what’s going on”

Pairing: Percy Jackson x fem!reader

words count: 1.4k

warnings: slightly mention of injury

A/n: Thank you for requesting! I would like to apologise with all the people who are waiting a fic, but lately I’ve been REALLY busy with school, and writing became impossible. 😓🧡 In these days I’ll try harder to publish as many requests as possible, thank you so much for understanding! 🧡

——————————————————————————

You were on the right front of the river. Dressed up for catch the flag you were ready to give your best. To your misfortune though, your boyfriend, Percy Jackson, had ended up in the other team. Of course, being part of the g/p’s cabin also meant ending up in the red team all the times. But you sticked with that because you couldn’t do much else.

The game started, you had a defensive role in your squad, and you were okay with it. Armour on and senses awake you examined your surroundings in search of any possible ‘enemy’ in the near area. You could hear the sound of words sparring in the distance, and that only alerted you more, they were becoming clearer by the seconds. You took out your weapon, ready to fight. The river was behind you, so it was unlikely someone would try an attack from there. Other than that you were surrounded by trees and vegetation.

A noise coming from a near bush caught your attention, you were ready to defend yourself, and eventually your flag.

But then… a sharp pain had hit your dominant arm, and you let out a groan of pain, finding yourself with a much younger camper of the blue team.

You didn’t loose another moment, you tried to move quickly, to dodge his attacks and try to get him to drop his sword, but it was useless. In the end you had found yourself, butt in the water, and the other camper having surpassed the spot where just a few moments before you both were sparring.

You didn’t even pick up your sword again, you stood there in the water, dumbfounded. How did a younger camper managed to beat you so easily?! You couldn’t believe it. Slowly you pulled yourself out of the water when you heard the horn that indicated the end of the game, your team had lost.

You made your way back to where all the other campers were supposed to reunite at the end of the game. The blue team was cheering and laughing, all of the half-bloods obviously happy of having won the game. Between them stood Percy, still happy, but less thrilled than the others, it wasn’t his first victory, so he didn’t party like the others.

It was then that he noticed you as you walked away to your cabin, quick to avoid his gaze, and when he tried to approach you, you had skillfully managed to avoid him. Saying that he was confused would have been an understatement. Why did you avoid him? And why your back was wet with water? Was that a cut the one he saw on your arm?

The next morning you presented to breakfast in a way more tired demeanour, dark bags under your eyes and sloppy movements. You didn’t even sit at the Poseidon table, which was the standard. Your arm was covered by a short bandage that cover your cut to avoid possible infections.

And then Percy sat by at your table, ignoring the glares your brothers and sisters were giving him “hey” He tried to start a conversation with you “mornin’ ” you simply said, answering back in a dry way, something didn’t feel right.

“Do you want to sit to my table?” He asked again, a slight frown on his face, green eyes holding a spark of worry. You replied dryly again “If you want” and then the two of you got up and sat at the Poseidon table. Percy attempted to make small conversations, but none of it were working, so he decided to try a different approach

“You good?” He asked, and while he was searching for the truth in your eyes you looked for at your food “yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He sighed “look at me” you were focused on your food “y/n please. Look at me?” You didn’t move your head fully, you just glanced up “I told you, I’m fine” you then stood up and walked away, leaving your plate on the table, your food almost untouched.

the rest of the week went by in a similar way, you acting off of it, and Percy worrying over you more, every day that passed. He found you in the training area, exercising with a mannequin “You need a sparring partner?” He tried, expecting once again a negative response.

Instead you hesitantly looked up and nodded your head “I… yeah, actually yes, it would be helpful” and with that you two started sparring. Percy took a mental note of how much your stance was uncoordinated, which was strange, cause you usually fought very well.

Your feet moved fast, you had only a thought in your mind

I need to win.

you usually weren’t like this, you didn’t care too much if you won or not when you sparred with your boyfriend, but this time it was different. You had to prove yourself that you knew how to fight, how to spare and how to handle a weapon.

It was that taught that distracted you and almost got Riptide stabbed in your stomach. Luckily you had been fast enough to move, and even if you fell to the ground you had avoided the hit of the celestial bronze blade.

Percy let go of his sword immediately and rushes to your side “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” But you didn’t even hear him, your mind was elsewhere.

you had lost. Again.

And even if you knew that Percy was great with his sword you couldn’t help but- “Y/n!” Percy had you sat to the ground when you came back to reality. He was holding your face and it was crystal clear the distress on his face. “Yeah, yeah sorry, I’m fine, you didn’t hit me”

He insisted to take you to his cabin to actually check he didn’t hurt you, and even if you were hesitant if you should follow him or not, in the end you both ended up in his cabin.

“Are you sure, but like 100% sure that you’re fine? Because these days you are way more absent and you’re spending all your time sparring.” Before you could reply he continued “And honestly, your movements were so uncoordinated before that…” you didn’t hear the rest.

your movements were uncoordinated

that was enough to stop your whole body to move, even breath. Percy noticed. Of course he did. He also tried to get you back to the real world by putting a caring hand over your shoulder. “Hey, c’mere, sit down, tell me what’s going on” and you did. You sat down by your boyfriend’s side and told him about the younger boy that had beat you so easily.

“I can’t even fight! He was like 10 Percy! If I cannot keep up with a 10-years-old then how will I be able to fight monsters? How will I be able to handle quests?” Now there were tears streaming down your cheeks. So that was what you were worried about. Percy pulled you into his arms “shh, please don’t cry, you’re good with fighting, I can assure you” but you didn’t believe him, you just sinked deeper in his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Please darling don’t cry, I have proof you’re a good fighter yeah?” He rubbed your back, trying to sooth you, he had no intention to go away until these insecurities of yours would have been solved. “Remember about a month ago, when you made me drop Riptide only 2 minutes into the sparring session?” He began, you weakly nodded your head, hugging him close

“And do you remember about two weeks ago when the mechanical taurus of the Hephaestus cabin who broke, and you stopped them from destroying the dining pavilion?” You looked up at him, still tight in his embrace “but-“ he cut you off “no buts, you are great, you have great skills and you have to believe in them and in yourself, trust me when I say this.”

His words sinked in. He was right, you had amazing skills and you couldn’t let the first person to win over you let you down like that. “I love you Percy” you whispered

“I love you too, with all my heart” he answered, and the two of you fell asleep like that, in each others arms…

——————————————————————————

A/n: hope this was what you were searching for babe! Thank you for requesting 🧡

[cenorii]

In 2021, dirty secrets about the use of bioweapons are revealed inside BSAA + there are direct hints in Umbrella Corps that Wesker is alive. I just combine the two puzzle pieces together in my head. So let's look at another interesting post-2009 scenario.

AU - ELEGY OF FREE RADICALS

Chris was once careless about eliminating Wesker. Knowing his nature, he still didn't check Wesker's presumed place of death properly. Relying on his own luck, Chris left the place of battle and never returned there. But he had to go back. It has become his mistake.

Chris reported the scene of the victory to the BSAA. Rotten BSAA could have used that data in any way they wanted. Like going back there and checking out the volcano. They could have indicated on the documents that they were headed to clear the area of the remnants of Uroboros, but in fact to search for Wesker's remains to get rich off the sale and study of his unique biomaterial. But what they didn't expect was to find him alive. Badly injured, helpless, but somehow alive.

Taking advantage of the weakness of the still living organism, he was taken to the secret laboratory of the headquarters. Now Wesker could be under the supervision of BSAA scientists for a very long time. He's much more useful alive than dead. His knowledge, skills, all of it could be utilized. And it was also possible to conduct endless experiments on his unusual body... Testing the limits of his abilities, testing various poisons, looking at the lethality of their new weapons, and etc. He was once again a puppet, as he had once been in Spencer's hands, from which he had miraculously escaped.

The BSAA kept Wesker's abilities under strict control, he was trivially stripped of any PG67A/W injections, replaced with an alternative that was only necessary for his body to regenerate damage after the battle in the volcano, but didn't provide any additional benefits. So he would remain weak but healthy.

Another remedy was also applied to him, eliminating the consequences of merging with the Uroboros, which modified his body in a volcano. It was discovered in 2011, after the events of Revelations 2. It was rude to call it just a serum, it was something more, because it did not remove the virus itself from the body, but brought it into a more stable form, allowing Wesker to take his ordinary appearance. With him, in this form, it became easier for employees to work.

The BSAA restored Wesker, stripped of his strength, any dignity, as well as his freedom. He was bedridden for several years and various weapons were tested on him, then recorded how his body reacted and at what rate it recovered. An immobilized lab rat, a deserved punishment for someone like him? Perhaps. It was thanks to his "sacrifice" that the anti-regeneration weapon was invented, which had once come in handy for Chris in the battle against Mold.

Just think… how many things could the BSAA have invented using the infinite resources of Wesker's body? He was terrified of these thoughts. Terror at the realization that he had no chance of escape, that he was trapped here forever, that he would continue to have his organs taken out of him and be forced into endless pain. He reflected that he hadn't actually managed to do so many contradictory things to deserve eternal torment. And it's better to let him die than to endure this hell. But his own body played a cruel joke without dying. It was an expert on regeneration. His pride was trampled when he begged for death.

BSAA absolutely did not spend any painkillers and sleeping pills on Wesker, absolutely all experiments were carried out when he was conscious. They had already spent a lot of money on him during his recovery, it was a waste to spend even more on someone who could repair any of his damage.

Pain and terror haunted him for six years. He cursed what he used to idolize in himself.

And then he was forced to work for them. In 6 years he had grown accustomed to the constant pain and had already learned to see himself as nothing, sending his consciousness into free floating. Deep in his thoughts, he created a place where he learned to ignore the endless physical torment. But when he was put on his feet and pulled out of this place… Wesker was even more devastated.

It was unusual for him to suddenly return to normal work, all this created a mess in his head, reality seemed to be nonsense. The usual paperwork after hell? Are you kidding me?!

Morally, he was destroyed. His psyche was severely damaged. Wesker from the "torture room" was locked in a cell that looked like a combination of a room and a laboratory. For fear of being put back on the operating table again, he dutifully began to work and develop various things that BSAA would use in the future. But it wasn't life either. Weakened body, lack of abilities... he wanted to die, but he couldn't afford it, because he was practically immortal. Although, even if he used a weapon that stops regeneration on himself... he still wouldn't kill himself.

«Not here»

«Not like this»

At times he thought he was balancing on the fine line between normalcy and insanity. He saw people at best once every two weeks who came to check on his work and were not at all talkative. Wesker had always been convinced he didn't need company, but 12 years without socializing had made him question his beliefs.

Once a month he was provided with food, and then carelessly, because he didn't need food. His body, experiencing hunger, could devour itself and regenerate immediately.

The only reason he was given a room and released from the operating table was because the organization wanted to see what he could offer them. Of course, they didn't stop studying his unusual body and conducting experiments, but Wesker was already in charge of the process himself. Independently amputated his limbs and so on. Only closer to 2019 were these experiments stopped, because they had extracted all possible benefits from his body.

Wesker remotely, horrified, realized that thanks to his body he would live much longer than the average person, if not forever. Which led him to believe that he would be kept in this cage for centuries. BSAA would close, others would take their place, find him, torture him again. And so on in a circle, for all eternity, as long as human society and greed existed. This had to end... but how? A plan was needed, a complex one that could not be unraveled.

His life and existence was a BSAA mystery from 2009-2021. For 12 long years he was not allowed out of the walls of this cell.

Of course he wanted to escape, he had many unrealistic thoughts in his head about it. He was also interested in meeting Chris, aged, changed. To see his reaction, genuine shock rather than the anger he'd reacted to Wesker's earlier 'resurrections'. Is Chris even still alive today? What year is it now?

But this life couldn't go on forever, the BSAA was cracking at the seams. In 2021 it was revealed that they were using B.O.W. soldiers, something Chris couldn't ignore. So he headed over to European headquarters to deal with it - right where his nemesis was located, a complete headache. Chris couldn't accept that his organization, which was fighting biological weapons, would use them. It didn't fit in his head. He had long ago stopped trusting the BSAA, but this was the last straw.

Arriving there, Chris did not expect to meet someone in the basement laboratories whom he had buried a long time ago.

What was he going to do with him? Shoot him in the head without any thought? That would have been logical and in Redfield's character, but over the years he'd stopped being a complete hothead, learned to think first and then act. Gained a little equanimity.

It will turn out that it was Wesker who was involved in the creation of the B.O.W. in BSAA. Especially since these soldiers are improved clones of Chris himself. Who else could have come up with such an idea? Only to a man who thought Chris was "one of his best men".

For the past 6 years, Wesker has been forced to be an advisor to BSAA, sharing all the knowledge and ideas. He might have been able to pull it all off, if only to get back at that organization, turning Chris' anger on it, and turning his attention to himself at the same time. After all, only this "one of his best men" was the only one who could save him. Yes, Wesker was pathetic. He felt he wasn't even worthy of his former name, being so pathetic as to enlist the help of his enemy. But it was the only option. There was no more talk of pride.

However, it didn't matter now, Chris had come here to punish the founders, so their prisoner, their chief counselor, might prove to be the best informant. And an ally.

Natural intuition made Chris believe his former enemy, the biggest manipulator of them all. As if he was definitely not lying now, because he was in such a big asshole that he couldn't let his words sound unconvincing. Earlier, Chris would have easily recognized his lies, but not now. Right now, completely honest and dull eyes were looking at him from beneath translucent glasses. So damn pitiful that Chris automatically assumed the role of the hero rescuing the damsel in distress.

Chris was quickly combine the information together in his head: the situation, the physique, the setting... His opponent had been held hostage by his own ambition, it couldn't help but bring a smile to Redfield's face. But he hid it in his thoughts, because he deemed it inappropriate once he read Wesker's imprisonment papers. Chris had some free time to devote to the situation.

He read about what had been done to Wesker. About all the torture. And Redfield clutched his head, when he got to the description of his ammunition that he'd used against Mold a couple years ago. He was terrified that this weapon had been created in such a gruesome way... through the suffering of his enemy, who, even considering all his guilt, didn't deserve all this. Chris felt that Wesker should have died and rid the world of himself rather than suffer endlessly. Even for him, he thought it was inhumane.

The first thing Wesker said to Chris was: - Now you've taken on the role of captain of the «alpha» too. This jabbed Chris slightly, but he noticed how the hostage said it without malice. Redfield involuntarily remembered 1998, the mansion, the betrayal, the deaths of the Alpha and Bravo group...

The compartment Wesker was in was to him both an office and a laboratory, and a room. A kind of prison, which he could not leave on his own because of his weak physical condition. He was weakened by the daily injections putting his viruses inside his body to sleep.

Releasing him and examining him at arm's length, Chris made sure that in the state Wesker was in now, he posed no danger, just an ordinary disgust. He resembled only a pale copy of his former self.

The BSAA operative dragged him carelessly behind him like some sack of garbage, concerned only with keeping the information in his head intact. But in his mind Chris still held images of what the BSAA bastards were doing here to Wesker. He didn't want to feel sorry for him, but he couldn't control it, Redfield had never been heartless. Initially he had only cared about information, but it wasn't long before he didn't even notice how protective he had become of him. As if a friend, which in truth, he never was. His captive's behavior was different from what Chris remembered. It was different, like a throwback to the past. Perhaps 12 years of imprisonment had had that effect on him.

He was docile, which wasn't surprising, since Wesker had been treated like an object by the organization, and the operating table had been a good teaching moment. Chris couldn't believe that after so many years of hell his former enemy's mind was still intact, that he hadn't lost his mind and was capable of dialog.

Time passed unnoticed during the proceedings with the BSAA about B.O.W., eventually the organization was destroyed and all its equipment, along with Chris's squad, transferred to TerraSave.

Chris during all of this had to sign Wesker into the Hound Wolf Squad as either a prisoner or an advisor. To keep him from getting shut down again, that was the deal. He helps them, they help him. Over time, he was getting back to normal. The food and good company had done their job.

However, Chris didn't know that his new ally hadn't lost all of his strength, and the ones he had were sleeping under the influence of the medicament. But time passed, the medicament slowly stopped working without new doses, and Wesker understood it perfectly well. And felt it. It didn't affect his appearance, so he could play his role for as long as he wanted. But was it a role? Sure he was portraying a courtesy that annoyed Chris to the point of nausea, but it was partially sincere. Having broken with his past at the fault of the BSAA, Wesker could only hope to find a new purpose. After all, as Spencer had raised him, there is no life without purpose.

Therefore, was it so necessary for him to betray Hound Wolf Squad? Would it be beneficial to him? Chris is a strong point. He has no doubt that if he kills Redfield - another will take his place, and will definitely get him into the basement wheel of samsara. So Wesker had no grand plans yet. After all, any of them would be doomed to failure as long as there was anyone in the world capable of resisting.

But Chris risked to give him a goal, which, however, called impossible - to become the best version of himself. To help the Hound Wolf Squad, to work with TerraSave, to use his knowledge for something other than endless failed experiments. Stop being Spencer's failed experiment. The only option Chris would give him a chance at.

Those words stuck in Wesker's head for a long time. Mentioning the old man was like a low blow. Chris knew where it hurt the most.

It had been several years since Wesker had joined Redfield's team. All that time he'd been hiding his abilities so as not to lose the fragile trust in his person. But the truth couldn't help but surface one day....

On one of the missions connected with B.O.W., the blade of an exploding helicopter blew off Wesker's head, and then another piece of debris cut his body in half.

But he didn't die.

Chris was enraged. With resentment, he felt cheated. What else could he have expected?

First, the black mass connected the body, restoring functionality to it, and then this silent carcass picked up the head. It was slow. It looked helpless and creepy. Chris's squad was on edge, but he ordered to wait. The black substance emerged from the base of the neck and attached the head to itself, then the calm expression on the reanimated head changed to horror. Was he in unbearable pain from the newly received oxygen? Or from the fusion of tendons?

When Wesker recovered, he couldn't at first think of a response to Chris' "explain yourself!"

Everyone's fragile trust collapsed, but not Redfield's, for he knew that if his former adversary had wanted to betray him, he would have betrayed him long ago, he wouldn't have let himself be so ridiculously exposed. Especially after all the torture he'd endured. Chris could understand why Wesker was hiding his powers. Redfield had stepped on the same rake of trust again, convincing himself that he had everything under control.

Wesker, ever since the prototype had merged with Uroboros in his body, had acquired a number of flaws, chief among them an unbearable sensitivity to pain. The only time he could not feel pain was when he was BSAA injected with force restraining drugs. But without them, all the disadvantages came out.

Whereas before he could recover from any wound without feeling anything but minor damage, now the pain was so obvious that every regeneration was accompanied by agony. Especially if it was a burn, for heat is a major weakness for Uroboros. The healing places on his body, after that helicopter situation, hurt like hell.

He was closer to human now than he had been before, and Chris seemed to realize that. That was why he hadn't killed him a second time, but had accepted him back into his squad. It was not only a gesture of goodwill, but also a precaution, a way to keep a dangerous object as close to him as possible so he wouldn't do anything.

How long will they have to cut off the heads of hydra in the face of the creators of bioweapons?

- Why do you trust me, Chris?

- I still believe that anyone can become the best version of themselves. We should prioritize fighting for the future to give someone a quiet life that you and I have been robbed of. I know about Project W. Together we can stop new organizations and prevent many tragedies like this from happening again. And you can help us, Wesker. BSAA took away your choice, but I'm giving it to you now.

Wesker at first couldn't find the words to respond, but after a moment he barely audibly whispered: "Thank you."

From a man who never thanked anyone, Chris was shocked to hear that. And he was proud of him. Had he forgiven him? No, his deeds were unforgivable. But Chris wasn't the kind of man who would turn his back on his one chance to make things right, to make things right on Earth, to save someone's life. In this truce, he sees a future that's bright for everyone.

[orchidniins]

Forehead Kisses | Arthur Frederick

Summary: Arthur being the biggest green flag and taking care of his sick partner. Pairing: Arthur TV x gn!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word count: 1.3k+ A/N: Short one to start the week. I have a ton of requests that I'm currently working on at the moment (honestly I'm a lot slower at writing than I thought) and I'm hoping to get out 2 longer fics next week (if work doesn't keep me busy that is) 🤞 Thanks anon for the request! Hope you enjoy!

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As you step into your apartment, the door creaks softly behind you. You clutch your forehead, rubbing your temples in an attempt to ease your pounding migraine. Each step you take only worsens your body pains, leaving you feeling as though you've been hit by a truck. You shed your jacket and kick off your shoes, your body craves rest, wanting nothing more than to just curl up in bed. However, thoughts of the work you still have to complete nag at you, not wanting anything to pile up for the rest of the week.

Tossing your keys onto the table, the loud clatter disrupts the quietness of the room and you mentally curse yourself. You try to move as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Arthur, who had mentioned his plans to live stream for a few hours today. And despite your best efforts, an uncontrollable fit of coughing wracks your body, sending a sharp pain shooting up to your head again. You groan out in pain, unable to ignore the discomfort.  

Arthur was in his office in the midst of a live stream, chatting away with his viewers when he heard you from the living room. Pausing the game he was playing, he swiftly excuses himself from the stream, taking off his headset and exits the room.

You glance towards his office, the soft click of his door catching your attention. Upon spotting your red nose and sunken eyes, he doesn't hesitate for a moment, swiftly hurrying to your side. "Hey, darling, are you okay?" His voice is laced with genuine concern as he assesses your condition.

"I just had a bit of a headache, so my boss sent me home early," you shrug as you explain, trying to downplay the situation. "It's probably nothing, maybe just because it's cold and windy outside—" Your sentence is cut short by cough, prompting Arthur's concerned gaze. "Why didn't you tell me before you left for work?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. "How long have you been feeling like this?", his hands come to rest on your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly.

"You see, this is why," you remark, sounding slightly exasperated. "Weren’t you going to stream today?" Arthur immediately responds, "Don't worry about that, darling," he assures you, still just as worried.

"I'm fine, babe," you quickly reassure him, not wanting to worry him any further, knowing he'll drop everything to take care of you. "I'm feeling better now that I'm home. I'm actually gonna get some work done." But before you can continue, Arthur shakes his head adamantly. "No work, absolutely not. You need to rest," he insists firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he gently guides you towards the bedroom.

“But…I don’t want stuff to pile up”, you attempt to protest. But Arthur remains resolute, his gaze soft as he looks at you caringly. "There are others who can handle your work for now," he insists gently. "Right now, you need rest, medicine, and some tea." 

You look back at him with a small pout, hoping to sway him, "Off to bed you go," he says, as you two step into the bedroom.

"But Arthur," you begin, whining, but he cuts you off with a pointed look. "No, Y/N," he says, giving you a pointed look.

Finally, you concede, a sigh escaping your lips. "Fine, I'll sleep for an hour, but promise me you'll wake me up so I can finish up work." Arthur simply nods, accepting the small victory.

After changing out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable, you sit down on the bed "Just stay put, I'll get you the medicine," he says, but you attempt to get up from bed, insisting, "No, no, it's fine, Arthur, I'll get it myself." However, he gently pushes you back down. "No, I've got it,"

"But what about your stream?" you worry, but Arthur dismisses your concern with a laugh. "Just sleep, darling," he urges before leaving momentarily to fetch the medicine. Returning with water and the medicine, he hands them to you. "Here, take it," he instructs, watching as you comply before he helps you settle into bed.

"Do you need more pillows or a blanket?" Arthur asks, but you quickly decline, insisting that you're fine. "You just get back to your stream. Don't leave your viewers staring at an empty chair," you joke weakly. Arthur chuckles, "You just worry about getting better," before you interject, "It’s literally nothing, Arthur. I’ll be fine after a small nap. Just make sure you wake me up in an hour okay?" He responds with a sarcastic chuckle, “Yeah sure darling”, and you soon start to feel yourself getting drowsy. He brushes the hair out of your face, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead before quietly leaving the room.

Ignoring your request, Arthur allows you to sleep for as long as you need to, making sure to check up on you every 15 minutes or so. If he hears even a peep from the bedroom, he excuses himself from his stream to ensure you're okay or to make sure you've taken your medicine, sitting beside you until you drift back to sleep.

After another 30 minutes or so, Arthur decides to end his stream early, apologizing to his viewers before quietly slipping back into the bedroom to check on you. He walks up to you and sits beside your sleeping form, noticing a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead. Gently grabbing a towel, he wipes it, causing you to slowly wake up. "Sorry, sorry, go back to sleep," he quickly apologizes, feeling slightly guilty for waking you. However, you decide to sit up in bed, “No it’s fine,” you say, giving him a small smile.

He smiles softly and leans in to kiss you on the forehead, gently rubbing the sleep marks on your face. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Better," you reply with a slight smile. "My head doesn’t hurt as much." Leaning to grab a tissue, you blow your nose before asking, "What time is it?"

"It's around 7 pm," Arthur responds gently. "You've been asleep for about 3 hours."

"You told me you’d wake me up," you start to say, your tone slightly whining.

"Yeah, but you are really sick," Arthur interjects gently. "You don't need more work, you need to rest."

"But—", you begin to speak, but then you cough, a sharp pain shooting to your head. You look at him sheepishly as you groan, finally accepting, "Yeah, fine. I’m sick."

Arthur nods understandingly as he laughs at your admission. "I'll be right back, let me get you some tea," he says, getting up before quietly leaving the room.

He comes back after a few minutes, finding you sitting with your eyes closed, leaning against the headboard. As he walks in with the tea and more medicine, setting them down on the nightstand, he sits on the bed next to you, causing the mattress to dip slightly and the movement wakes you up.

"Hey, I’ve got your tea," he says softly, offering you the cup. "It'll help with your throat."

You pick it up and take a sip, feeling the warmth trickle down your throat, soothing the ache.

You look at him with a small smile, "Thank you, baby."

Arthur smiles warmly, replying, "Anything for you, love. You know I always wanna take care of you."

"I love you," you say softly, placing your palm on his hand that was resting on the mattress.

"I love you too, more than anything," Arthur responds, his eyes filled with affection.

His hand comes up to gently rub your cheek. As he leans in for a kiss on the lips, your hand comes up to cover his mouth, saying, "No, you'll get sick too. And then I’ll have to take care of you, and you’re the clingy type when you’re sick."

He feigns hurt for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Okay, okay, forehead kisses only," he agrees, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, eliciting a smile from you as he leans and places a kiss on your forehead.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Requests are open..or just drop in for a chat 😊

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟚𝟘 ✧₊

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

day 20: Uniform, Titjob, Thighfucking

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫

| PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x virgin!fem!reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 828 | CONTENT: inexperienced virgin, Joel makes you wait, thigh fucking, allusion to public sex acts, implied girthy age gap | SYNOPSIS: Joel vows to make good on his promise to be your first, but a thigh fucking will have to do for now.

He’d promised you’d do it soon. He’d promised he was still interested and was just taking the time it deserved — doing this right. That he just wanted to make sure you’d be able to take him with as little difficulty as possible, only the inevitable discomfort of something new. 

“Once I start, I don’t know how good I’m gonna be at stayin’ slow,” he’d warned you. Part of you wanted him to take you apart piece by piece and put you back together however he saw fit. Part of you wanted him to wreck you, to destroy you for any other man than him – he’d already done so in every other way. But mostly you knew he was right. 

It was bad enough that you were well past the age of exploration and discovery and “should be” hurtling towards settling into yourself and your preferences. The “late bloomer” moniker, once a fitting and apt handle, now felt more spiteful in its imagery. You were a dying bloom on a withered vine when you met Joel Miller, and that was the first time you’d ever understood all those sort of passionate tales and hormone laden exploits of your peers and friends.

But unlike the late teen early twenty somethings that those stories boasted, Joel wasn’t in a rush to say yes to just any offer of physical intimacy. Turns out having a daughter of his own played a big factor in how he approached and treated women. It was the sort of gentlemanly respect that drove you up a wall. You finally met someone who made your insides feel like a match thrown into a powder keg, and he insisted on taking it slow. 

Yes, you didn’t want to have a bad first experience and then be put off intimacy from then on. Yes, you recognized a newfound impatience when it came to his body and yours together. Yes, you wanted your first time to be special and slow and feel good and be with the right person. 

But you knew he was the right person. And right now when you feel the heft of him dragging between your clamped legs, you have half a mind to just line it up yourself and push onto it, pain be damned. Your inner thighs drip with your own arousal. The saliva Joel had spit onto his hand and worked over his cock wasn’t necessary anymore, not when you were so worked up and wet for him.

He glided with ease and groaned in unison with you every time the lip of his head stuttered across your clit. It felt amazing, but you wanted more. Always wanted more. You’d take what he’d give, though, for now. Knowing one day he’ll give more than what you could manage but talk you through it.

“You make the prettiest fuckin’ noises,” he grunts next to your ear.

You weren’t aware you were making noises – not loudly, anyway. That was sort of an unspoken part of this deal. Something to be kept quiet, between the two of you, until you were sure. You’d told him a million times you were sure, but it was like he was waiting for you to wake up and realize you could have literally anyone else but an old, washed up man like him. You didn’t see him as anything of the sort, and you had never felt anything like this for anyone else.

“C-Can’t help it,” you whine. “You feel so–oh!– so good.”

“Think one’uh these days—” his breath hitches and stalls as he picks up his pace between your thighs “—real soon I’ll give it to ya.”

You moan an exhale, elation and victory at some firmer sort of promise as to when he’ll finally fill you up and make you his. “I’m ready. I– I can t-take it.”

“Lemme make you come like this, honey. Lemme see what you’ll look like fallin’ apart on my cock.”

Your wrists dig into the brick siding where you’ve braced your body. His length rubbed back and forth, the quickening pace giving you a clear imagining of what his cockhead would feel like punching into your cervix. Your body clenches up, your legs slamming together even tighter as you bite back the sounds of your climax.

“Oohh fuck, there she is. Yeah, goddamn—”

A heaved groan. His arms slipping around your middle to hold you close as he stills and releases against the brick. You watch it drip down, thick and slow, and think of what it will feel like to be full of him, left dripping for the rest of the day when he spills inside you after wrecking you.

His breathing levels behind you, and a soft chuckle earns one of your own. “Think next time around we should just take it to my bed, huh?”

You nod in urgent agreement. You’d already waited so long for him. What was one more “next time” in the grand scheme of things?

[bonefall]

Is Outcast the only instance of a cat hitting their kit on the ear? I feel like I remember that happening a lot and being treated without any fanfare in-universe, but it's been years since I read the books so I wouldn't be surprised if I'm making that up or mixing stuff up or something.

Generally, when they want you to know that a kit or apprentice is being given a tap of discipline or pawed in a playful sort of cat-way, they use the word "cuff." Cuffed around the ear, a paw cuffs their ear, they feel a cuff, etc.

One example of this is when Hollypaw is celebrating a victory at the Kitty Olympics,

Note how playfully and gently this is framed. It's like they're passing their paw over the ear and it simply bends to the touch, since cat ears don't have, y'know, a bone.

Here's a disciplinary example, when Berrypaw is goofing off on the way to a Gathering by walking on a log in the shallow part of the lakeshore and falls off,

Unless Brambleclaw reared up on his haunches and clapped his paws together on Berrypaw's head, "Idiot Sandwhich" style, "cuffed" here means that his paw swiped over both his ears in one smooth movement. Which wouldn't be possible if ears didn't bend.

(though i do want to eventually make a note of how brambleclaw in particular does a lot of "cuffing" when he's angry or disappointed. in spite of the way the narrative frames him like the perfect father, he's got some interesting behaviors.)

The more important thing here is that when "cuffed" is used, it usually seems to mean "a tap" or "a soft blow." During the Infamous Bumble Scene, Clear Sky even dismisses his vicious beating as wanting to give his victim a "cuff on the ear; nothing too painful."

So compare these instances to the "blows" that are given to Breezepaw and Alder,

This is a "hard blow," Breezepaw immediately flinching, treated in-context as a smack upside the head.

This one even knocks the kitten right off her feet, sending her to the ground so Clear Sky can screech at the child whose mom he murdered for land.

While we can talk about "cuffing" and how anthropomorphized the cats are, if it's even actually painful at all or more just the cat-equivalent of firmly grabbing a kid's shoulder, Crowfeather and Clear Sky here did not just "cuff" these kids.

They smacked them. Hard. There is a difference, on the page, between a "cuff" and a "blow" and they are framed as such. Crowfeather hit his kid, physical abuse.

[charliehoennam]

aftermath.

A/N: nobody asked for this, but all I've seen is Will smut (which I totally love, don't get me wrong) but I need some vulnerable Will

Pairing: Will Miller x f!reader

Warnings: grief, mourning, sad!will, mentions of death, mentions of Will's military past and Tom's funeral

One of the things you've always admired about Will is his strength. He was always the one to put on a brave face and push on. The captain in him had the duty of moving forward and completing whatever mission was at hand, whether it was getting his team to the landing zone or grocery shopping day at home.

It was that very same strength he possessed that got him through the darkest times in his life.

Losing his war veteran grandfather, losing his comrades in combat or to the haunting PTSD that they tried to chase away with substance abuse.

Before you came into his life, before he realized that he was lost in the same fog of that purgatory of PTSD, shutting his emotions out is the only thing he knew. After all that time, he came to believe it was easier than having to deal with them.

It just wasn't a priority; a moment of tears he refused to share with anyone anywhere other than sat naked and alone on the shower floor.

Tom wasn't the first friend he'd lost, but it doesn't mean it made losing him any easier.

It was easy for him to plaster a smile and bury his grief deep down until he felt it was time to unbury it and mourn.

Getting to that point of self-awareness was a victory in itself.

It took so much patience and love and pain, not only on his behalf but yours as well, to help him to understand what he was really struggling with.

He hadn't realized it had gotten so uncontrollable until the incident at Publix - the grand revelation of the weapon he could be, once shred of his humanity, provided the cathartic acceptance of the fact that he needed help.

Upon federal investigation, the story they told was that Tom had been shot and killed in a tragic mugging incident on their consultation trip. Just a boys' night out gone bad.

It wasn't too hard to believe, given they were 5 foreigners in a country that wasn't theirs. The heat from the Feds didn't last long. Thanks to Santiago's few but faithful contacts, that investment was quickly brought to an end.

It's barely 6 a.m. and you're stood in the kitchen making coffee, still processing how this all happened.

Your black dress is simple but elegant and modest against your body. Despite the itchy fabric, you can feel the early morning chill soaking through.

The dripping of the coffee maker lures you into a whirlwind of thoughts. You watch the droplets of dew form on the kitchen window against the cloudy sky which threatens to rain.

You start to second guess the toast when it pops up in the toaster. You're not the slightest bit hungry and you're positive Will won't be either, but you have to try.

He hasn't eaten right in the past couple days. You didn't say anything, but you've noticed the few bites he'd given his food and the way he'd pick at it.

He should've been ready and downstairs by now, so you decide to go up and check on him.

Moving forward is hard for most people, but for Will, it's what keep the pain at bay. The problem is when he stops.

Like a tornado, he's left with the screaming silence and the damage it left in it's wake.

Now that he's home, the mission of bringing Tom home is complete, the hard truth that his friend and mentor is gone has begun to sink in.

You gently knock on the door as you reach your shared bedroom.

"Honey, do you want any help?"

"I'm good, sweetheart. I'll be right out."

You can hear him sniffle despite his attempt to sound as normal as possible. Unconvinced, you turn the knob and open the door.

He's sat on the edge of the bed wearing a simple black suit as he looks back over his shoulder at you with a Marine coin in hand, a gift from Tom when Will confessed about his therapy sessions.

You aren't too surprised to see he changed out of the formal military blue suit he had out on earlier.

The ribbons, the medals, the badges... He couldn't put them on without feeling the crushing and staining weight of guilt.

"Lat minute outfit change?"

The corner of your lips curl in an attempt to smile, hoping to cheer him up with a bit of tease.

"I was gonna wear my dress blues, but..." he trails off for a moment to swallow hard. "Just didn't feel right."

Without a word, you quietly walk over and sit beside him. You're not sure what he needs right now, but you don't want him to feel alone.

"Black is more flattering if you ask me," you speak up.

His beard twitches as he attempts to smile. He knows you just want to help him feel better. Yet all he can do is stare down at the gold coin.

"Five times... Five times. Five close calls. And he survived them all. He didn't deserve to go out like that. He just wanted to help his family."

You fight back tears as you listen to him with an arm wrapped his back as you press your cheek to his shoulder.

"I told Santi to get him in. I said I'd go if Tom was in. Tom didn't even want to go in the first place. He didn't-"

There's a crack in his voice which he catches it in his throat to compose himself. He sniffles letting a tear cascade down his cheek only to wipe it away quickly, hoping you hadn't seen it.

"This isn't on you, Will."

He nods although you both know deep inside that he won't stop blaming himself.

"When you told me you were a marine, I knew the risks that came with that, Will. Every knock on the door had my heart racing. But I decided to stay with you because I love you. There wasn't a person on earth or a God in the sky that was gonna tell me otherwise. I knew the risks and I took 'em anyways because not having you would've hurt more... I don't understand how fate works other than we all end up the same. What I do know is that all we can do is love our close ones and cherish the good memories you have of them."

With a tearful and silent nod, he lowers his head and rests it against your chest. His arms lock around your waist as he surrenders to the tears in your embrace.

The tears quietly trickle down your cheeks as you listen to him finally breaking down.

With your lips pressed against his golden hair, you hold him in your arms and stroke the hair on the back of his neck to soothe him for as long as he needs.

All you can do is hold him through it and he couldn't be more thankful to have you in such a vulnerable moment after having faced them on his own for so many years.

Just the feeling of not being alone was overwhelming enough, but to have you holding him and reminding him of the things that are easy to ignore in grief give him hope.

Although he feels he's coming apart, he knows that he'll have the strength he's always had.

It's different now. It's not the strength to bury and forget; it's the strength to heal.

With a sigh of relief after a long, vulnerable moment, he pulls away from you and nods, mentally assuring himself that he's alright.

Upon arriving at the church, you're greeted by Molly so you offer your deepest condolences due to the circumstances. Just as Will, you find that the guys have all opted to wear normal black suits instead of the formal military uniform and you wonder if it's for the same reason.

"Sorry for that," he sniffles wiping his eyes as he tries to regain his composure, swallowing hard with guilt. "We should get going... I don't wanna be late."

You remind him that there is no need to apologize and that he can take the time to splash some water on his face to help him recollect before leaving.

Frankie doesn't say a word other than to Molly and the girls, apologizing for their loss. Throughout the priest's religious ceremony of easing words, Benny's apathetic eyes are glued to Tom's casket set in front of the church between his military portrait and a beautiful arrangement of white flowers. During Will's heartfelt eulogy, Santiago keeps his head lowered as the guilt consumes him.

The grift and sadness during the wake only follow and weigh heavier during the long walk to the gravesite, lingering among the guests of the funeral like a dark cloud. It's only reflected in depths by the light rain pitter-pattering all around.

The military traditions at the funeral leave a bitter tinge of irony in the boys as they watch Tom's casket lowering into the ground.

Tess's happy big doey eyes are now swollen and red as she cries under her mother's arm, hugging the folded flag as if it were her dad, while Molly holds her other and youngest daughter under the other arm.

Looking over at Will, you see that he's trying his hardest to keep his strong facade as well as the boys.

You slide your hand into his and whisper to remind him he's not alone and doesn't have to feel alone.

With a gentle squeeze to your hand, he nods.

"You with me?"

"I'm with you."

You and Will - as well as the guys and Tom's family - are the last to leave, reminding Molly that you're more than willing to help with anything.

Will, however, lingers a moment to speak to her private and tells her about the fund. You can tell from her reaction, she's genuinely surprised and thankful, relieved to know that she'll be able to pay for the funeral.

Having called your boss the previous day to let them know you wouldn't be going to work due to the funeral, you take the rest of the day off to recover from the overwhelming day after the funeral.

The drive home is quiet save for the rain against the car and the windshield, echoing into the vehicle which you insisted on driving to give Will some mental ease. He didn't put up a fight. He was quite relieved you'd offered.

In spite of being eager to understand how he's doing, you refuse to burden him with constant questions and decide to respect his mourning process. So, you keep a hand on his thigh to remind you're in this together.

He doesn't mind it at all. In fact, he is grateful for your respect and your thoughtfulness. His hand rests over yours and doesn't leave until you have to pull your hand back to turn the steering wheel, but it finds it's way back onto his leg, warm fully welcomed by his engulfing hand.

As you're undressing in your room, Will's hand catches yours while you're unzipping your dress.

"Thanks... I don't know about you, but I'd say this weather is perfect cuddling weather," you share letting the dress hang loosely off your shoulders.

Will smiles shyly as if you'd read his mind and locks his arms around your waist.

"I couldn't agree more."