#and ill rip into myself until i know i have a heart

[vilz]

i'll bend myself out of shape for you. i'll become something new for you. i'll put myself in a little box, and you'll sing a song, and i'll pop back out again- surprise! a real boy at last... a real person, a real...

i'll really really really be me, the me you want me to be. and it won't hurt at all. what's your favourite shape? i'll be it. i can be it.

[lemoncake438]

How do u know if its love or mental illness?

[in-som-niyah]

soft!oblivious!Jason Todd x fem!reader on her period

a/n: hey besties guess whos on the bathroom floor again haha its me!!!!! endo is trying to murder me but guess what jason's here to make it all better!!! this is entirely self-indulgent btw i wrote this to make myself feel better and to take my mind off the urge to rip my uterus out with my bare hands🫶🏾🎀🌸💝✨💖💗💕

Warnings: reader vomits, reader has a period, reader is in fucking pain, jason todd speaks spanish, reader is weakned, jason todd is a beautiful husband fuck you i said what i said

Note: reader and jason have a system where jason asks the reader what her pain is on a scale from 1-10 (10 being highest)

Jason's key turns in the lock of your shared apartment in Gotham.

To his surprise, the place is dark and lifeless. Upon checking his watch, which read 6:45pm, he noticed the peculiarity of the scene before him.

Usually, you would have started dinner by now, had some sexy 90's R&B playing (which you unashamedly sung along to) and would have greeted him babbling excitedly about what your colleagues thought about your new hairstyle.

But nope, there was nothing.

Though Jason was concerned, he tried to pass it off as a weird occurrence, until he heard a faint retch coming from the other side of the apartment.

Immediately, he parked whatever he was doing and came rushing (sprinting) to you, desperately needing to make sure you're okay.

When he found you in the bathroom hovering over the toilet, the sight clawed a hole in his chest.

You were gripping the edges of the toilet with shaky hands, trying to steady your unstable and shaking body. Your braids were tied back too tight, definitely causing you an uncomfortable and unnecessary headache.

Carefully, Jason stepped in the bathroom and lowered himself to you. He loosened your hair and re-tied it in a more comfortable way and kissed the top of your head.

In your dazed state, you barely recognized his lithe fingers in your hair, too exhausted physically and mentally to focus on anything other than the searing pain in your abdomen.

Finally empty, you reach to flush the toilet when a much bigger, scarred hand takes yours and kisses the back of it before flushing for you.

At this, you look up at him with bleary, tearful and irritated eyes, clearly indicative that you've been feeling like this for a while.

Jason's heart cracks.

Before either of you could speak, Jason pressed his forehead to yours and instructed you to steady your breathing. His hands expertly maneuver you to sit on your bum in front of him; this was not his first rodeo.

Jason was familiar with your illness, and what that meant for you sometimes. With practise, he was attuned to your needs and catered to them willingly. But still, his heart broke a little more every time he saw your body fold in on itself in pain.

When your breathing calmed he kissed your forehead just before another cramp seized your body, and your face crumpled in pain.

"Shit- You're okay sweetheart c'mere. Remember to breathe okay? In. Out."

You nodded lightly as you pushed yourself to move into his lap, the action only making your muscles strain but you were so desperate to feel his warmth you did it anyway.

As you continued to breathe Jason wrapped his strong arms around you and held you to his body, his hands came up to gently rub your lower back where he knew you were hurting.

"What's your number this time, amorcita." Jason asked in a tender voice, as to not upset your headache.

Through sniffles and shakes, you reluctantly surface your buried head from his chest to answer him.

"It was an 8 all day today..." you started, still in pain but able to speak.

"I took the painkillers too late, and they didn't work in time. I'm sorr-"

You're interrupted by Jason pulling you back into him. He would sooner take your pain than hear you apologize for a painful experience you couldn't control.

"Shhhh no sorries, princessa. You know that." He spoke into your hair.

Soon, the wave of pain settled, and you were granted a limited amount of small relief.

"I-I think I should move to the bed now. I don't know how much I have until the next one" you mumbled into his chest.

Through a positive rumble in his chest he agreed, and began to carefully untangle himself from you.

"Can you stand?" Jason asks, his eyes conveying sincerity.

You looked to the floor shook your head in shame. You couldn't believe you had to rely on Jason to help you so much.

"I'm gonna pick you up okay baby?" He says, but his eyes ask for your permission.

Upon granting it, he slips his arms under your body and lifts like you weigh nothing. He carefully walks to the bed, taking extra care in making sure he doesn't hit your head or legs on walls or doorways.

Once at your bedside, he places you down gently and presses a set of kisses to your nose, cheek and forehead. It is then when he notices how frigid your skin is, which worries him. But first, he needs more information.

"How long ago did you take the painkillers, mi vida?" He begins as he crouches to reach your eye level.

With an exasperated sigh, you close your eyes and shrug. Truly you had no idea how long it has been since you've been in such pain, much less since you've taken your last round of painkillers.

Jason returns your sigh, but with one of sadness as he reaches out his hand to absentmindedly rub your sore hips. Remembering your small remedies that help the pain, he stands and begins out the room.

Suddenly your hand grasp his ring and pinky, and he turns to face you again.

You look up at him with tears on your cheeks, silently begging him to stay.

At this, he leans down and captures your lips softly, silently letting you know that he would never do anything you wouldn't want him to.

With your hand still grasping his, he brings your hand to his lips to kiss, before breaking the silence.

"'Tell you what, amorcita. I'm gonna go get you your heating pad and boil some raspberry leaf tea, then i'll climb into bed with you and i'll rub your back as you fall asleep. But you gotta let go of me so I can do it, bien?"

Reluctantly, you took his offer and released his hand before he left a soothing kiss to your hairline and took off.

While he was gone, your were desperately breathing through another wave, trying not to scream or cry out. The pain continued to ebb and flow, but it was pain nonetheless.

When Jason returned with the tea, hot water bottle and a little square of dark chocolate he found you almost asleep, knees up to your chest while clutching your abdomen. He knew you well enough to know that your back is not enjoying the position at all.

He placed the tea and chocolate on your nightstand and carefully took his spot behind you. You slightly woke up at his shifting, but upon Jason's placement of the hot water bottle to your aching abdomen, you relaxed.

Jason breathed a silent breath of gratitude that you're able to rest easier than you were before now that you're comfortable. He moved himself closer to your body, firmly but delicately wrapping his arms around you and stretching out your aching back.

You appreciated this, the pressure releasing on your back and the soothing warmth of your hot water bottle contributing to easing your pains.

Jason retracted one of his arms from your waist in favour of rubbing your sore lower back. A sleepy hum of appreciation followed his ministrations just before you spoke.

"Jason?" you mumbled into your pillow

"Querida?" he replied, semi alert

"Thank you" you finish as you let yourself drift into a light and more comfortable sleep.

A peck to the back of your head is his response.

Jason knows he can't take away your pain. But when it cuts you deep, he'll be your remedy.

Always.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n pt2: bro im so sorry if this makes no sense im in pain leave me alone im tired its sleepytime

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Bitten

Pairing: Vampire!Shanks x AFAB!reader

Warnings: NSFW, biting, this got graphic fast, doggie, oral (fem receiving) P in V, fingering, cum drinking, squirting, feeding, groping, aftercare, overstimulation,

It was the night of the full moon, and it wasn't just any full moon, it was a blood moon. Most of the red hair pirates had gone to bed, in fear of a superstition that the blood moon was an ill omen that brought out the monsters in men's hearts. Only you, Shanks and Benn were awake past lights out to view the celestial spectacle.

"Careful there sweetheart, you might not want to lean on the railing right now. One stray wave, and you'll go straight into the drink." Benn rumbled from his lounge chair on by the mast.

You stood up straight and grumbled, "I've fallen overboard before, and you didn't have a problem bringing me back up."

"Yeah, but that was during the daytime when we could see, if you fall in and don't come up then you are as good as gone." Benn retorted, flicking the ash off the tip of his cigarette into the breeze. "And when the rest of the crew was awake to help."

You rolled your eyes playfully, "fine, fine," and strolled over and plopped down on the couch Shanks was sitting on. The red head wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled your back against his side. Shanks kissed the crown of your head and mumbled, "wise choice love, we wouldn't want to wake the crew, or worst lose you."

Your hands gripped his forearm as you got into a comfortable position. The warmth of his body seeped into your skin as you relaxed against him.

"If you were gone, I'd have to find someone else to tease for my amusement." Shanks added, before his lips danced over your neck. A shrill squeak ripped from your throat at the tickling feeling, you tried to escape him, but the tightly muscled arm around you just tightened.

"Benn! Help me." You whined, "Your boss is being mean to me."

"You're fine, he doesn't bite... Well t least not often," Benn replied, leaning back in his chair and taking a drag off the cigarette held between his fingers.

You glared at him out of the corner of your eye and growled, "he might not, but I do." You twisted behind you and sink your teeth in Shanks's neck. The tall man groaned, "oh fuck, darling." His hand slide down and squeezed your breast, making you moan around the mouthful of his hot skin. His breath fanned over your shoulder as a chuckle rumbled in his chest, "I didn't know you liked biting, I must admit that I usually prefer to be the one doing the biting, but don't mind indulging you."

"If you two are going to go any further, fuck off to your own room, and let me enjoy this night by myself." Benn growled.

Shanks chuckled, "so you don't want to watch? How unlike you, but fine." He shifted his hold around you and picked you up. Purely out of spite you refused to release your bite, as he carried you below deck. He kicked open the door to his room, the carmine colored moon light poured in from the large bay windows, making your partner's usually very cozy room quite eerie. As he made his way over to the large bed in the center of the room, the smell of your captain flooded your nose making you quite giddy. Shanks plopped both of you down onto his plush bed. "Are you gonna let go, love?" Shanks huffed, dragging you to the head of the bed. When you didn't let go, Shanks's hand dove up your shirt, and he yanked on your nipple. The yelp he pulled from you allowed him to pull away, he reared up and sat on his heels. His brown eyes took in your form, before focusing on your chest. He pushed your shirt up until it bunched at your collar bone and circled his thumb in a soothing manner over the bud he had been rough with.

"There we go, now my turn." Shanks purred before diving at your chest, nipping and sucking at the skin around your areola. His stubble leaving a pleasant burning sensation in his wake that made heat pool between. You gasped and squirmed, trying to rub your thighs together for some relief when Shanks pried your legs apart and laid himself between them. "Oh no, no, no, you don't get to pleasure yourself, only I get that honor." Shanks whispered as he rested his chest against yours, sinking you deeper into the crimson covers of his bed. He hummed in amusement as he trailed his nose from your chest up to your neck and his hand gripped your wrist and pinned it above your head.

"Shanks, please kiss me." You panted, while trying to tilt your hips, so you could grind against his stomach.

The look he gave you was almost feral, but he made no move to kiss you. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you..." He said, suddenly quite serious, all traces of lust gone from his voice. "Bust I'm worried it might scare you off."

You scoffed, "darling, I've seen you behead a man, there are very few things that you could tell me that would scare me off."

"Even if I told you I'm not human anymore?" He asked, "and that I need something besides normal food to survive?"

You frowned, and searched his eyes only to find that no deceit in them. "What do you need to survive?"

A hesitance overtook your brave companion, giving him pause before he responded, "blood."

"I still love you even if you are a vampire, because you're still you..." you cooed, finger combing his hair back with your free hand, before adding, "wait is that right, you're a vampire?"

He let out a relieved shuddering breath, and nodded his head.

"But why tell me about this now?" You asked, "are you hungry, is that it?"

Shanks shook his head momentarily before cocking it to the side and replying, "Well, I ate on the island, but I'm still feeling a little peckish. And while normally I would ignore it, this blood moon is making it hard to ignore."

You giggled, "So what you're telling me is you want a dessert, baby?"

He grinned and pressed a kiss to the column of your throat, as he replied, "absolutely, and I figured you would be delectable."

"Perhaps, but don't you think I'd be even better after a few orgasms? When my blood would be a cocktail of hormones?" You sighed, trailing your fingers from his hair, down to his jaw, and lifting his chin to make him look at you. As he gazed up at you his pupils widened before narrowing into a slit like a cat's eyes and red flooded his iris.

A low growl rumble shook his chest, making your own rib cage vibrate. "I don't know, but I'd love to try it out."

"Then get to work," You commanded softly, and pecked a gentle kiss onto his chapped lips.

Shanks lunged forward, slamming his kips to yours while his hand gripped the collar of your shirt and tore it down the middle. And before you could complain he huffed, "relax, I'll buy you new ones," before parting your lips with his tongue.

You slid your trousers off for him because you did not want them ripped. "No panties or bra tonight? What a naughty thing you are." Shanks quipped as he pulled away, to undress himself. You decided then to tease him, and dipped your hand between your legs, running your fingers through your folds and around your clit. He hungrily watched you lift your hand to show him how wet they were. He stumbled over his pants crawling back on the bed, trying to get back on the bed. Shanks kicked them off as he shoved your fingers into his mouth. Laving his hot tongue around each digit to suck them clean.

You used your other hand to take a handful of his hair and guide his head between your legs. Shanks did not need any more encouragement to latch his mouth onto your clit, sucking like his life depended on it. When you gasped out his name, he moved down to your sopping cunt, and lapped up as much of your slick as possible. His tongue greedily dipping inside you, sucking gently as your walls to drink up more of what you had to offer. Shanks's eyes remained locked on your face the entire time, making sure you could see him swallowing.

As his jaw grew tired, he pulled away, and replaced his mouth with his hand. Stroking your clit with rough pad of his thumb while his long fingers scissored and curled inside of you. Shanks watched you with rapt attention as he wound the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter. "Come on, come on, give me something to drink love." He barked, while you bucked up into his hand.

"It's close!... But not enough. I need both!" You cried, digging your nails into the wooden head of the bed.

A rough growl bubbled in his throat, before he latched his mouth over your clit and shook his head while thrusting his fingers into the spongy wall that always made your toes curl. The coil in you suddenly snapped, but pressure kept building inside you. You wailed out as every nerve in you sang in pleasure, bucking your hips uncontrollably until the pressure in you burst, all over Shanks's face. He quickly cupped his mouth over your cunt as you squirted, gulping down your cum like he hadn't drunk in a month.

When your head stopped spinning, allowing you to regain awareness, Shanks was kissing his way up your belly. He hummed, "And now for the main course," and suddenly the world spun around you, and you were now face down in his sheets. His big hands gripped your hips, and he hauled you, so you were ass up. Shanks guided his fat cock between your folds, and stroked himself to make sure he was well lubricated. He ignored your pleas of urgency, as he gripped the base of his dick and slapped the sticky head against your clit. "Patience love, wouldn't want to hurt you one accident." He purred, before pushing himself inside. The stretch made you gasp his name, and arch your back for him more.

"Go ahead and set the pace darling," Shank ordered, hands gripping your hips and urging you backwards. And set the pace you did, leaning back on your knees and putting your back into slapping your hips against his. He eventually started to meet you halfway, with thrusts of his own. It didn't take him long to pull another explosive orgasm out of you, one that didn't stop. Each one of his thrusts had you gushing and clenching around him. You were absolutely cock drunk, and unable to do more than let him use you like a cock sleeve, and babble things like declarations of love and praise him for how good he was fucking you. Which shifted as his thrusts grew sloppier, to please for him to fill you with his cum.

Your cries were cut off when he wrapped his hand around your neck, and he hauled you up on your knees. Each thrust was harder than the last, as he got closer to his own orgasm. Finally, cumming when his fangs sinking into the soft flesh of your neck as he released his load deep inside you. Your eyes rolled back, and you came again, as you felt his warmth spread in what you could swear was your womb. His hips still pumping into you, to milk what was left of his orgasm. You could hear him gulping down your blood, as you rode out the aftershocks of pleasure that wracked your body. When Shanks felt full, he pulled away and let you go, unaware how lost in the sauce you were. That is until he watched you fall forward, into the puddle of your own cum that had formed on his sheets. He smirked as you slowly slid off his cock, and cum around nothing, releasing a gush of fluid and cum.

"Are you good?" He asked, sliding his hand up your back in what he thought was a soothing manner. Only for you to arch away from his touch with a whine. "Was it that good?"

"Yes, and I'm still sensitive." You panted, trying to crawl away from him.

Shanks pulled you back under him, and pushed away the damp hair that stuck to your forehead. "is there anything I can do for you?"

"Water." You groaned hoarsely, "Fuck my mouth is dry."

"I imagine, I'll be right back" Shanks chuckled.

"Put on pants!"

"No."

List of Up-and-coming works

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[probably-writing-x]

Enough

Summary:

Warnings: Discussions of body dysmorphia, eating disorders, self image issues. If you, or anyone you know, is struggling with these thoughts or illnesses, please seek the help needed. I have linked some international helplines and support below for any of you who may need it. You are loved and worthy, always.

International Eating Disorder Treatment Information & Resources Help (eatingdisorderhope.com)

Email Helpline – BDDF (bddfoundation.org)

Professional Help And Support - Body Image Movement

Author's Note: I hope I’ve done this idea justice, I love you all and thank you so much for reading my work <3 You are always enough

---

It was just an Instagram post, wasn't it? Just a photo of the two of you. A photo of you and Drew from Chase's film camera - you both sat at the table at dinner, a beer bottle in Drew's hand, your head on his shoulder, a grin across his face. Innocent.

But the comments were far from it. The words were forcing a clench into your chest, a tightness in your throat, a tremble in your bottom lip.

What does he see in her?

I'm sorry but he can do so much better

This girl is not it, Drew

You were sure someone had just taken your heart from your chest and ripped it up in front of your eyes, broken off every band-aid you'd used to heal it, peeling them and tossing them aside.

Drew had been the person who helped to heal you, since you two had started dating eight months ago. It took him a while, but he broke down the walls you had built to protect yourself. He healed the pieces of yourself that you thought were broken beyond repair. But, now, it seemed the world was out to destroy all of that.

You can't help the tears that spill down your cheeks, dropping in blurring patches over the words on your phone screen. Your fingers fumble to lock the screen quickly, trembling in their movements.

"Babe? Are you ready to go?" Drew calls out from the other side of the locked bathroom door.

You take in a shaky breath, dragging a hand under your eyes to try and pick up any of the stray tears. You clear your throat.

"(Y/N)?" He's closer to the door now, his shadow visible under the gap at the bottom.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a second," You call back, raising your voice so it masks the break in your words, the way your throat is still constricting.

You drag a hand over your eyes once again, smooth over your hair, shift the material of his baggy hoodie around your shoulders, another deep breath, and you open the bathroom door to see him.

He frowns a little, "Everything okay, honey?"

"Yeah, yeah," You shake your head, "I just couldn't get my contacts in."

Drew nods as if believing you and reaches out a splayed hand to wait for you to hold it, "Shall we go?"

"Sure,"

You grip his hand a little tighter so that he doesn't notice the way yours are still shaking, noticing your appearance in the mirror just before the door to your apartment - tired, but in the drained of all energy sort of way.

~~~

"I just think objectively I dress better," Drew defends himself, his arm sprawled out on the back of the couch behind you.

"Yeah but that's because you have (Y/N) telling you what looks good," Chase points out, though their argument seems to blur in the space between you and them, their words not sounding clear.

"Oh come on!" Drew scoffs, "Babe, will you tell them that I actually am capable of dressing myself?"

You can't bring your mouth to respond when your brain feels like it is running a thousand miles an hour.

"Hey," Drew drops his hand from the back of the couch to squeeze at your shoulder, like he's making sure you're still there.

"Oh, sorry, yeah, yeah, he does," You glance up from your hands momentarily to where the rest of the group were all looking directly at you.

They know you better than to try and pry, instead turning amongst themselves and chatting about an event they had coming up. Drew waits until he is sure that everyone's attention is away from the two of you before he makes any move. He shuffles himself a little on the sofa and brings his arm down so that it envelops around your shoulders and he can pull you into his grasp a little tighter - drawing him into you.

"What's up babe?" He asks running a hand up and down your spine, the delicate feeling making your skin tingle.

"Nothing, I'm okay, I just zoned out for a second, that's all," You encourage, staring down at the material of his joggers so that you don't have to look up and meet his eyes.

You can only imagine the frown on his face as he says, "Are you sure?"

"Of course," You try to inject a little more energy into your words then, hoping he'll believe them just a fraction more.

"Okay, I'm going to get a beer, do you want anything?" He kisses the top of your hair.

Your mind flashes back to the comments from before, one in particular - She needs to lose weight if she wants to be good enough for him.

"Just a water please."

Drew narrows his eyes at you, "Who are you and what did you do with my girlfriend?"

You laugh and it seems to satisfy any worry in him as he disappears into the kitchen. You shift your weight on the couch and pull his hoodie around you, making sure it didn't sit too awkwardly around your stomach. You swallow the lump in your throat and try to blend into the room you now felt completely separate in.

~~~

There was always that half an hour of procrastination after you had a shower where you would sit on your bed and let the time just pass. You'd been scrolling aimlessly through TikTok with no real attention, until you came across a video of your own boyfriend. It was an edit of him from interviews with the cast recently, that brightness in his eyes that never faded.

You're not sure why you do, but you click onto the comments. And it's practically flooded.

How (Y/N) managed to get him is beyond me

She's never going to be enough for him

He'll realise it eventually.

She was better looking when they first got together but she's let herself go.

The last comment has a video response attached to it and it's simply instinct when you click onto it. There's a montage of photos of you just before you and Drew had got together, and when the music changes, it's photos of you now that you and Drew were eight months in. Sure, your body had changed. You were comfortable, and healthy, and you were no longer as concerned with counting your meals like they were all crimes against you. He made you confident in a way that let you see your body as more than its image. But that didn't seem to be enough for his 'fans'.

Your eyes drift up to the outfit hanging from a clothes hanger on the door of the wardrobe in front of you, the one you'd been so excited to wear tonight. It was black and tight fitted, a low neckline and a lower back that dipped to the bottom of your spine, two thin diamond circled cut-outs on either side of your torso. When you'd first put it on, it felt like a dream, and you felt like you couldn't wait for the event when you could wear it. You imagined the photos they'd take of you and Drew, the way he'd look at you in awe like you were the best thing he'd ever seen. But the thought of wearing it now is bringing a sick feeling to your stomach that you are sure won't leave.

"What are you doing here?" Drew laughs when he walks into the room, snapping you out of your daze, "And what are you watching? I've heard that song playing like ten times in a row."

You look up from your phone and lock it quickly before he can see the screen.

"What are you hiding?" He narrows his eyes at you jokingly, "Is it your secret boyfriend?"

"One of them," You return sarcastically.

He walks over to the edge of the bed and stands between your legs, where you were sat with your towel wrapped around your drying skin.

"You know if you sit here longer you'll be complaining that we're going to be late," He comments, running his fingers over the water droplets that are lingering on your shoulders.

"Yeah, um, I hope you don't mind," You take a deep breath, not making eye contact with him, "I think I might take a rain check on tonight."

Drew steps back a little like he's genuinely taken aback, before crouching down in a squat in front of you so that his eyeline meets yours, "Okay, what's going on babe?"

"Nothing, nothing," You smile a little, trying to reassure yourself as much as him, "I just don't really feel like going out."

"Do you feel okay?" He brings a hand up to brush some of the damp hair away from your face, the back of his hand pressed against your skin like he's checking for your temperature.

"Yeah, I'm okay, I'm fine, I'm just not up for going out," You nod, smiling so that it hides the weakness in your eyes.

"You know these events are boring when you're not there," He squeezes your shoulder, leaning forward to kiss you.

You're cautious at the touch, something you'd never felt before with Drew. He draws one hand up to cup around your head, his long fingers sprawling backwards to grip you close to him, drawing you into his kiss. When you feel the contact of his hand against your thigh - nothing more than a gentle grip like he normally would - you can't help but flinch away.

He looks at you with a flash of worry over his features, "I didn't mean to-"

"I'm just tired," You cut in quickly, pushing yourself back a bit on the mattress, "I think I might take a nap."

Drew swallows the lump in his throat and tries to mask the concern on his face, worried he'd just done something he shouldn't have done, "Yeah, okay, get some sleep. I'll let you know when I'm leaving."

He stands up and drags a hand through his hair, looking at you again like he's trying to break through a wall without knowing why it was there, or what he'd find on the other side. But there was a strange air of uncertainty when he looked at you, like he was finding it just slightly more difficult to see you recently - and he just couldn't figure out why.

"I'll see you soon."

~~~

Over the next few days, you try to use the excuse that you're ill to avoid Drew asking too many questions. So that he doesn't overthink when you don't want to get up to make breakfast with him, or when he goes to cuddle you in bed but wakes up an hour later to find that you were no longer in his arms. But he recognises all of it. He's making mental notes of every time he sees you skip a meal, or eat barely enough to constitute as one. He lays awake when he feels you pull away from him, knowing you're laying away from on the opposite side of the bed, neither of you sleeping. He notices the way you pull awkwardly at your clothes, and how the tighter fitting things you normally wore had all been seemingly discarded in a pile at the bottom of your wardrobe. He saw it all because he wanted to see you.

You snapped him from his thoughts as you came into the kitchen. You looked tired, and the colour seemed to have drained from your face, your body drowned in one of his hoodies, your eyes focused on your phone.

"So that's where all of my jumpers have gone," Drew comments, stirring aimlessly at the eggs in the pan.

"Did you post a photo of us?" Your voice sounds hoarse, not the sort of thickness that would tell him you'd slept well.

"Yeah, yeah," He beams, "Just one of us from our holiday, I think Madison took it, we're by the pool."

He's sure he can see a tremble in your hands when you look up at him.

"What's up?" There's a frown washing over his face, one full of fear.

You shake your head, "Nothing, it's nothing. What are you making?"

He looks down at the pan and turns down the heat, "Eggs, bacon and toast, do you want some?"

"No, no, I'm not hungry."

It's like something switches in him then, a final straw in him as he was watching you slip away from him.

"(Y/N), what's going on?"

You look up at him and your gaze meets his for the first time, it already evoking a bubbling in your chest that you were sure would result in tears.

Drew crosses the space of the kitchen island and comes to stand in front of you, "I can tell something's wrong, and I've been trying to give you your space but it's so hard - this isn't you."

He stands in front of you and holds one hand of yours in his, his other hand moving to your other one, but your phone is still gripped tight in its grasp. Drew's eyes flick down and then back up to yours, taking the phone from you like it was going to tell you an explanation of everything going on behind your eyes.

When he looks at the screen, it is flooded with your message requests on Instagram - all of them hurling various insults at you, telling you of your lack of worth, how Drew must be blind to be with you, how disgusting you were, how you'd let yourself go. There's a sickness in his stomach, and he finds himself gripping your hand tighter as if he needed something to steady him.

"How long has this been going on for?" His eyes haven't left the screen.

"A while now but the past couple of weeks have been really bad," There's a quiver in your bottom lip.

"And this is all of it? Or is there more?"

"There's comments on my photos too, and I've seen some stuff on TikTok as well," You continue, watching his every move like you didn't know what he'd do next.

"(Y/N), why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm sorry I-" You stumble over your words, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"No, no, you don't need to apologise. I'm not mad at you okay?" He tosses your phone onto the couch and uses his free hand to cup your cheek, "I just want you to be able to tell me these things, and I'm worried about why you felt like you couldn't."

"I-" You try to swallow down the nerves blocking your throat, "So many of the comments were about not being enough for you, and I kept seeing them and every time I did, I just got scared that you'd see it and you'd believe them."

"Not enough for me?" Drew's voice cracks at the thought, "(Y/N) you are everything to me."

Your tears start to fall down onto his hand but he doesn't move it from your skin.

"I don't care what these people think, I don't care what they have to say, but I do care about how it's made you feel like this. You've been losing yourself because of this, and that can't keep happening. You were so confident (Y/N), it's one of the things I love about you," He smiles reassuringly and you can't help but smile too.

There are no words now that were going to feel right for you to say.

"I don't expect you to think of yourself as perfect. Hell, there are things about myself that I don't like, but I need you to think of yourself as enough, okay?"

You nod.

"You're more than enough for me, you're always going to be," He kisses your nose, "But you also need to be enough for yourself."

When he wraps his arms around you, it's like he's breathing a new sense of love and life into your tired limbs. You look over his shoulder and can see the reflection of the two of you in the long mirror that occupied one wall of your lounge. Drew is crouched down to your height, his head dropped down to your shoulder and his arms long enough to envelop around you. He holds you like you’re the most precious thing on the planet, like he’s kissing every single one of the stars that made up your body. He makes you feel loved, and, more importantly, he makes you feel like you could love yourself. And that felt like enough.

[madamefluffnstuff]

Quelling the Beast

Fandom: Elder Scrolls Online

Pairing: Fennorian x Fem!Werewolf!Vestige, could be pre-romance or established relationship.

Rating: T

Warning(s): Werewolves, vampires, supernatural transformation, lots of blood, attempted assassination, angst, hurt/comfort themes, etc.

Words: 990

AN: Yes I *know* I have a request I need to finish, but after I saw our sweet Fennorian was coming back in the ESO reveal I had to go back and finish this one to celebrate.

This is actually one of the darker ones I've written, so just be cautious if blood isn't your thing. (Also Gwendis is a menace but I love her dearly. Bless.)

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Gray Host ambush was just that- an ambush. Masterfully planned and executed, Verandis' protégé and the Vestige were caught completely off guard. House Ravenwatch fought valiantly, and with the Vestige at their side it seemed to be going well. Until Fennorian tried to help Gwendis as a tag team and they both were sent flying back.

The Vestige snapped and let the bloodlust take over. Hircine's gift ripped through her as the beast inside roared in her ears. Only one thing on her mind: Save them.

When things calmed down somewhat, and no more Gray Host to be seen, the Vestige stood in the middle of the room in all her werewolf glory. Covered in blood, cuts, gashes, and flecks of robes, most people would be terrified and run the opposite direction. Not Fennorian.

"Listen to me- listen to me- It's all right, you're fine," he tried to soothe her. He knew he was taking a huge risk approaching her in her werewolf form when she was still coming down from the blood rush. If she spooked or snapped... He didn't want to think about it.

Her chest heaved as she panted, hard. Glowing yellow eyes with dangerously thin pupils bored into him. Deep, low warning growls rumbled in her ribcage. Every muscle in her body was visibly tensed, ready to either fight or flee.

When she didn't attack, Fenn took a tentative step forward, palms up. And another. And another. Until he was standing directly in front of the Vestige, his eyes level with hers. The intensity of her powerful gaze tested his nerves. But he was determined to help her.

Slowly, cautiously, the vampire wrapped his arms around the werewolf's neck. The sickly sweet smell of the blood on her maw nearly made him ill. Had he not just recently fed, he might have been in trouble with so much of it so close to his face.

"It's all right, my friend," he whispered. "You're safe. We're safe. I'm here. I've got you..."

Nobody moved. No one dared to breathe. The only sound was the Vestige's heavy exhalations and growling. Fennorian began gently moving his hands back and forth in her fur, rubbing her shoulders. As he did, he tried to talk to her again. If he could just get through to her-

"You don't have to fight them anymore," he murmured into her thick fur, "You defeated them. We're safe. Myself, Gwendis, Adusa.. We're all safe..."

Suddenly he felt his words starting to work- the werewolf's shoulders physically relaxed and she let out a guttural sigh.

"Please, you don't have to do this. Just- just come back to m- us-" Fennorian's voice cracked painfully as he pleaded with her.

It was Gwendis who saw it before Fenn felt it: the Vestige's knees starting to shake, threatening to give out. In a puff of black mist, she disappeared and reappeared next to her brother. The wood elf vampire sprinted to Fenn's opposite side and helped him in supporting their lycan companion.

And not a moment too soon- the Vestige's knees finally gave out and she collapsed into, and onto, them. She let out a strangled choking sound as Fennorian and Gwendis cushioned her fall. Fenn's heart nearly broke as he listened to her whimpering and whining, her wolven body shaking as the blood rush finally dissipated.

"It's all right, friend. Take it easy," Gwendis ran her hands through the Vestige's coarse, smokey gray fur. "You did amazing, you did that all by yourself," a smile was evident in her voice as she tried her own soothing words.

The Vestige tried to stand up, but her spent and exhausted body just couldn't support itself right now. Her lycanthropic form took so much from her with this battle. She felt a pair of arms under her chin and they gently rested on someone's lap. She glanced up and locked eyes with Fennorian. He could see her tired, dull yellow eyes, lacking the primal glow from earlier.

Adusa-daro decided it was safe enough to make herself known. Just like Gwendis, the Khajiiti vampire disappeared in a cloud of black mist and joined her siblings. "This one is impressed, Fennorian. I was not sure you would be able to bring her back."

He continued stroking the Vestige's fur and sighed, "Truth be told, neither did I. I'm not sure how I did it."

"Well, he did," Gwendis piped in, also petting the pacified werewolf. "And he did a damn fine job. You should be proud of yourself, Fennorian."

He nodded, his gaze never leaving the Vestige. "We have to get her back home. She's hurt and needs help."

The ladies nodded. "I can arrange for transportation. Discreet transportation," Gwendis said. "You stay here with her, Fenn."

"This one will go ahead and let Verandis know. He can set up a room for her to rest," Adusa offered up.

Fennorian, more or less on autopilot, nodded again. "I'll stay here with her. Keep an eye on her."

~*~

Gwendis rounded the hallway corner and knocked on the door. She waited. Fennorian didn't answer. She knocked again. Still no answer. A twist of the doorknob showed the door wasn't even locked. As it swung open, she poked her head in.

Fenn was sitting on the bed, propped against the headboard, sound asleep, with the Vestige. She had since reverted back from her werewolf transformation, though she was in the same position she fell asleep in: her big, furry head resting in Fenn's lap, one arm around his torso. His own arm, which had been on her back while she was a werewolf, was now draped across her human shoulders.

His sister couldn't help but smile as she quietly closed the door. They'd be fine. And she knew Fenn would tear apart anyone who touched the Vestige. She'd leave them be for now.

The playful teasing she'd give them later, however, was another story.

[mrsackermannx]

tw: sensory overload, neurodivergent coded reader.

thinking about coming home to your apartment with aki overstimulated and a little irritable to have him work it all away in seconds? the sound of his breathing is the only sound that doesn’t make you want to break out of your skin, he pulls you close, and wordless at the doorway, peeling away your coat. peeling away the outside world. he doesn’t say anything, not yet. instead he waits until you’re out of your coat and shoes, and he pulls you toward the bathroom. tea lights dotted all over, rose petals leading a trail to the door, chocolate covered fruit on a tray beside the tub.

your brows knit, and you rejoice in the sensation. they’re no longer furrowed, not when you’re looking at him. you pull on his tie, grinning at him, “hello,” you whisper, shifting the hair from his eyes. “how rude of me not to have said hello to you yet…” he smirks, shaking his head he tilts your chin and presses his mouth on yours. “not at all,” he tells you, voice soft, “i know this week’s been a lot, i feel it,” the measured, squeezes of his fingers around your hips make your breathing grow ragged and uneven. “you need to relax, with me.”

your heart throbs. you throw your arms around his neck, “aki, i wanted to see you all day,” he gasps at your earnest words, pressing you against the tile wall as he rips at your pantyhose, his lips all over your jaw. “don’t tell me that, because tonight we’re taking it slow—right?“ You moan as he works your panties aside anyway, even more so when he swipes your arousal from side to side. “i don’t wanna think, about anything. just you, aki, just you. can you do that?”

“id do anything for you.” he locks your wrists together and pins them above you, keeping them clasped together with one hand. “and now ive got you all to myself for the weekend…you’re all mine and only mine, for now. you don’t need to think about a thing.” his other hand toys with your slick, teasing you until he works his fingers in ways that have you panting and cursing into the steam of the bathroom. “ill make you feel better…so much better.” he groans, feeling the way you clench on his cock, his hands locked with yours. “that’s it, lose yourself. ‘till you’re too full to think of anything else.”

[arabellanyc]

“Icarus and his star”

the icarus you know

the icarus you knew

the icarus who has fallen

the one who is an icarus anew

has loved a star that is brighter than usual

but a star that shines just like every other star

nothing new

but a star can blind you when it gets too close

when YOU get too close

but icarus didnt mind

because you wouldnt know how blind you are

until the light's suddenly off

The star had fallen

Much like icarus himself

But he has fallen gracefully and at will

Unlike icarus who was ripped of his wings and had fallen ill

But together they stayed

And together they grew

Icarus and his star had started anew

But what icarus didn't know

Or rather, what he decided to ignore

Was that the sun was a star

And a star has to prioritize light over love

It happened once when his sun chose to shine, still

Even though it knew that it would melt off icarus's wings

And it happened again with his star

As his star starts to lose his light

"I have to go home and see to it that my light doesn't go off"

The star said as he prepares himself

"You're leaving me" icarus said

Blinded by his needs and his selfishness

"It's not like that my love. I would never want to lose you but I cannot lose myself for you" the star had said through his tears

He saw icarus was not hearing him

Was not understnding him

So he did what he swore not to do

He broke his own heart and left only with half of a whole

That was the last that icarus heard of his star

Now he wears his heart in his sleeves and his stars heart around his neck

And now the icarus you know

the icarus you knew

the icarus who has fallen

the one who is an icarus anew

has loved a star that is brighter than usual

And loves him still, but on a brighter point of view

—icarus fray, 2018

[felidaemelody]

The Burden of Proof

(A somewhat improved version of a somewhat outdated poem from before I accepted this human body and life)

You see my subjective experiences as a set of beliefs; a cloak that covers the root cause of my actions and emotions. To you, they are falsehoods held tightly against my human heart. I see reality, my reality at least, differently. These stories I tell about myself were not born of daydreams nor escapism nor mental illness nor neurodiversity. They festered underneath the muscles of my heart, beating and tearing louder at the most confounding of times that wouldn't have relevance to my human life. These feelings so intense that they are impossible to ignore, near impossible to deny, crawled out of the values; traveled to every vein in this vessel; and reached my brain and eyes, ripping off the foggy veil of my existence that I couldn't tell apart from ordinary human experience until that fundamental truth washed away the arrogant and ignorant assumptions force fed to me throughout my problematic upbringing to reveal my connection to my reflection has always been one of disconnection. The true escapism was my half-hearted yet stubborn attempt to free myself from the pain of this embedded cage of a body by desperately against common sense trying to persuade myself into believing I was human until I was so. Months of bashing my heart with a rusty hammer smelted from baseless assumptions about how healthy and sane people are, what they allegedly believe, only further pumped the innate feelings around my nervous system while damaging an important part of myself. These feelings are not only real, not only sane, not only important - to amputate this core part of my soul would be to destroy me and leave behind a husk; a mere imitation of my true self collapsed on the floor. Can you see now how your casual remarks, so seemingly innocuous from your human-centric perspective, were a volley of wrecking-balls launched at me from within the walls of what I thought was my sanctuary, surrounded by those, yourself included, that I consider family? I know nothing from my recounts can account for the need for solid evidence; there's a tragic reason why I "joke" about being insane. I guess I shouldn't have let my guard down. The oasis of acceptance was a mirage. My companions on the edge of the Earth's collapse can't, won't, see me for who I really am. In my place, their rationalization of me in the form of an insane furry. The crawling under my skin is still here; and it will never go away until either this vessel or I break. I hold desperately onto hope for a third option, of physical liberation and expression through the authentic resculpting of the flesh-costume. Until then... my curiosity drags my lethargic prison towards tomorrow.

[xxleviathansimpxx]

LOTR x immortal fem reader

Please dont repost or like steal my writing because that not nice.

Also my first time writing a actual fanfix and it may or may not be horrible to read ad grammar mistakes are also my bad

Tw. Mentoins of death, Chronically ill, and memory loss

.

I can barely hold onto what little life i had left, my bones were brittle and my mind was foggy.

for I am near death. 

I'm weak and sick, my death will be one more chore check off a list

i'm scared and cold and restrained with cords that keep me barely alive

I look at the ceiling, I'm thinking.. recalling my life.

my life.. was worthless... i am worthless,

 i have not a single meaning but burden 

nothing is what i am 

I want more, more than what I am! so please…

I muster the strength to speak aloud

"I beg you lord ... give me one more chance... a healthy body, one that can run, jump, climb, and do things others can do even more if possible..." my voice is soft and frail

I feel my eyes slowly close as I lay on my death bed alone. 

I thought I was ready but I'm not. I'm afraid of death.

my heart beats faster than ever before "i- i don't want to die!... Please I don't want to feel my life slip away... someone please help, I want to live!" i say in almost a shout hoping someone would hear

i rip the cords that decorate my body and slowly and painfully move off my bed

I can feel blood dripping from my nose but I keep on walking slowly. one baby step at a time 

The scrawny weak legs i have are shaking profusely and i feel as if i'm going to pass out

i open two double doors to my balcony and feel the fresh air hit my body, i sigh in relief

i haven't felt the crisp cold night air in years

my baby steps become crawls as my knees have finally given up

I think I'm ready.. i crawl using my arms and slowly and painfully move to the railing and pull myself up, my hair has become undone and flows in the fast cool wind

my eyes regester the full moon that shines so bright 

i stare at the moon for what felt like hours it probably was

i can no longer hold my body up right i'm on the floor crying waiting the sun rise

"please" i no longer know what i'm pleading for but i know that it's my last few minutes 

"someone please..." I mutter. 

my eyes are now fully closed, only black i see now. After seeing the beautiful array of colors I now see the comforting black.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Wet grass 

I smell wet grass around me

“Wha-? Why am i wet” i sit up expecting pain but i move so fast i fall over on my face

I have to sit up wipe my face clean from earth that sits on my face

Once my eyes adjust to the light I see my hands… my hands? “OH MY GOD MY HANDS” i shout so loud birds flutter out of trees

My hands are full of life, not just some boney crusty appendage. “So pretty” I blurt aloud my mouth curls upward into a smile. 

I look around and am amazed by what I'm seeing. Not some tall metal glass buildings or loud car honks, just soft bird chirps and beautiful greenery 

My hands feel my entire body, one that's plump and squishy.

I slowly stood up and hoisted myself up on a tree so I'm not overwhelmed. I slowly walk forward and pick up pace and begin to run as fast as I can.

“Thank You!” i shout while running until i see a decently sized lake that i rush towards

My knees fall to the ground and tears are falling from my eyes

I look into the lake only to see a lively youthful  face 

“Wow, is that me?” i say so quiet i could barely hear myself

I hear soft gingles from afar and someone humming

I see a path that enters from the one side of a patch of trees to the opposite side of the lake. Very rustic i think and i stand up and walk to the rode and see a old man riding a very rickety wagon and wearing an odd looking hat

“Why hello there! Wonderful day we are having today isn't it?” the old man says 

I say nothing but look at him. He looks almost offended by my blanket stares 

“Oh sorry, hi..”

“Hi?” he looks at me with a cheerful smile 

“I'm sorry, do you know where I am right now?” i say nervously “i'm a bit lost” geez i haven't had a full conversation with someone in ages or at least someone who wasn't a doctor

“ It's quite alright, you’re in middle earth and right out the outskirts of hobbiton” he says and points to a direction down hill

“I'm heading to hobbiton right now, would you like to join me?” he says and shifts to the left to make space for me

“I've never heard of middle earth or uh hobbitson before actually” i say and begin to wonder if this is just some crazy homeless old man 

“It's pronounced hobbiton actually, are you not from around these parts?” he says questioningly

“No, I'm not from anywhere near here actually i've never seen such green grass!” I said awkwardly “hehe… okay, ill um join you to the hobbiton?” i quickly respond to his original question

“Alright hop on and stay still it's a very bumpy ride” the old man says almost laughing at my nervousness

And I'm getting on he says “Im Gandalf and you are?” 

“Oh uh i'm…” I struggle to say my own name. My name? What is my name again

My new ‘friend looks at me patently and has almost a pitiful look on his face as i struggle to remember 

“I'm sorry I don't really remember…” I said " almost ashamed “you don't remember? That alright i'll just call you Y/N” he says trying to make me feel better 

“Is that a good name for you? Or do you prefer something different?” he say as i finally hop on the waggon

“Yes i think it's a very nice name actually” i say smiling again

Gandals whips his lead and we begin to move slowly down the road. We talk about our lives although i have not much to say 

All I remember is how unhappy and miserable I was but maybe tomorrow  I'll remember who I am.

[pleathewrites]

bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 2 excerpt — sick care read full story here

The second time he wakes up, he is still horribly ill but much more lucid. This time, Touya has enough strength to call out for Keigo and demand the hero take him to the bathroom, dropping to his knees the second he gets the toilet seat up. 

He gags but nothing comes out. It feels like agony.

He moans, tipping forward to rest his forehead on the cool toilet seat, “Why do I feel like this?”

Keigo’s warm and familiar hands are on his back, moving in up and down motions while Touya hears the whoosh of stray feathers moving about.

“You fought Endeavor. You almost died.”

He’s lucid enough to hear the disappointed tone in Keigo’s voice. He shuts his eyes, “And? If I’m not dead, means the bastard got away.”

“Dabi…” Keigo’s voice was wary, “Shouto stopped the fight. Iced down your fire before the both of you burned to death.” 

Horror runs through Touya’s already pained body, “Sh-Shou… to?” His body lurches, scrambling up to the bowl of the toilet and gags over it, nothing coming out except the wads of spit that keep flooding his mouth. 

“Wha — ” Heavy coughs racked through his body, “Wh’the hell — ” and he can’t even get a single sentence out. 

Keigo starts to shush him, “There’s time for all that later, you’re not well.”

When the coughing dies down, there’s still that horrible churning in Touya’s stomach, and he knows he’s not leaving this toilet until he throws up whatever toxin plagues his stomach. 

But — “I-I can’t. Get it out,” desperate whimpers leave his mouth and Touya has never felt so pathetic.

“Do you…” Keigo begins and Touya rests his forehead against the seat again, turning his head so he can look at the hero while resting his temple on the cool rim, “Do you want some help?” Keigo raises his own hand up for Touya’s viewing, bending his first two fingers a bit. 

Touya panics, his chest tightening in such a painful way, “That’s so — ” He feels his head weakly shake against hard porcelain, shame filling his body, “No, that’s disgusting. I can do it myself.”

The hand on his back moves to his brow, a thumb smoothing down the hairs gently, “Your seams. You could get sick in them. You’re already fighting infection, we’ve worked so hard to get you this far. Please.”

Keigo sounds so gentle. His golden eyes are wide and soft and he hasn’t looked away from Touya’s own grotesque and hideous face for a second. 

“I…” He feels so ashamed. 

Without all of this, Touya knows he’s already so horrendous to look at, to comprehend as human. Especially compared to Keigo, who is beautiful and strong and so, so alive, health radiating in every square inch. This Keigo who has spent countless nights holding Touya, whispering pretty little lies in his mangled ear, squeezed his body like Touya was also something alive, instead of the half-rotted near-dead man he is. He can’t even imagine how ugly he looks now, after a fight that’s left him in this kind of condition. And now, Keigo wants to stick his fingers down his throat and make an even more disgusting mess of Touya?

‘He’ll never look at me the same.’ 

He tries to find another excuse, “Wha’bout your talons? Pretty sure you’ll end up tearin’ m’throat out.” 

Keigo only gives him a knowing smile, “Take a closer look, Hot Stuff.”

Touya does and he gasps. All of Keigo’s talons have been cut off, down to the nib.

Rage and worry for the hero run through Touya’s broken body, “The fuck?” 

Keigo’s eyes widened a bit, “Wait, don’t worry! Relax, s’not like that. There was a real reason for this.”

Touya’s body relaxes a bit, relieved at the bird’s lighthearted tone. He raises his eyebrow, as if to say, ‘continue’. 

Keigo laughs a bit, that small and soft laugh that Touya had burned in his memory and stitched into his heart, “They kept ripping through the latex gloves. Natsou eventually told me that I’d either have to cut them down or opt-out of treating you. Did you know, apparently, there’s a shit ton of bacteria that lives underneath our fingernails?” 

Touya weakly tips his lips and raises his hand up, attempting to show Keigo his own short and immaculately self-manicured nails.

Keigo laughs again, a bit louder this time, “Of course,” and takes Touya’s fingers in his own hand to deliver a hard kiss to his nails. Touya’s heart feels stuck in his throat. Keigo sets their hands down, “Anyways, I kinda panicked at the idea of not being able to help you, and bit all ‘em off. Filed them clean once you were stable and asleep, though. I know how to groom them so they grow right. So, no worries, alright?” 

Touya’s heart is beating so fast and he honestly isn’t sure if that’s to do with his condition or this completely unreal man in front of him. 

“I’m not worth this, Kei.” 

And there it is, out loud and laid bare. 

“You don’t get to decide that on your own, Dabi.”

If Touya could cry, he thinks he would. Instead, his dry eyes burn and he has to close them. 

Warm hands cup his cheek tenderly, the warmth of Keigo’s fingertips dulled by the layer of bandages that dress whatever wound had opened in the fight. 

“I don’t mind doing this for you, baby. I want to. So, please, let me help you.” 

Touya feels his walls lower and his shame starts to recede. He feels so awful, so tired and weak, he feels like he’s going to die. He knows he needs to throw up, get rid of the poison that churns inside him.

He opens his eyes and nods, “... Okay.” 

Keigo absolutely beams at him, and stands up to wash his hands. 

When he’s done, he kneels back down and scoots next to Touya, raising his hand until his two fingers rest at Touya’s mouth and Touya’s own fingers wrap around Keigo’s wrist as he repositions himself to face over the toilet bowl.

“Slap my wrist if you want me to stop, okay?”

Touya nods before opening his mouth. 

Keigo’s fingers dip into the heat of Touya’s mouth and momentarily rest on his tongue, his golden eyes paying attention. 

Touya weakly nods his head, giving Keigo the go-ahead. 

Keigo’s fingers push further, down his throat and deeper until Touya begins to gag, but Touya only squeezes his wrist and he doesn’t slap, so Keigo keeps going until a warm rush of bile floods over his fingers and he pulls out that very second, and Touya is finally able to relieve his stomach of all its toxic contents. 

It hurts, but he focuses on Keigo’s soft coos, “... You’re doing so good. Let it out, baby, it’s okay, you’ll feel so much better. I got you, you’re doing so good...”

Touya feels so gross, he hates the sound, and the cramping of his stomach seems like it’s never going to end, but he keeps squeezing onto Keigo’s wrist like an anchor, and wills himself to get through this. 

When it finally stops, his stomach feels completely empty and he doesn’t think he remembers a time where he’s felt so relieved. 

He spits one final time in the toilet, takes a deep breath in, and tips his head back. 

Keigo’s clean hand wipes Touya’s damp bangs back from his sweaty forehead, “You feel better?” 

A feather flushes the toilet.

Touya chances a look at Keigo's face with his peripheral vision and sees that gentle look hasn’t gone away, “Yeah. Much better. Thanks.” 

A few feathers hover around Touya’s face and they’re carrying wet paper towels, “Can I clean you up a little?”

Touya nods and lets one feather dab at his mouth and another at his forehead. 

When he’s cleaned up, Keigo holds up a vaguely familiar glass, “Same deal, swish around then spit out.” Touya does so, and Keigo presses a closed-mouthed kiss to his lips, “Thank you for letting me help you.”

Touya feels his cheeks heat in a blush and hopes there are enough bandages around his face to hide it.

He feels much more clear now that the nausea is gone, and he takes a look around at the down-right luxurious bathroom they sit in, and the tube he didn’t realize until now connected into his hand, trailing his eyes up to an almost-empty bag of what he thinks could either be nutrients or antibiotics on a rolling IV stand.  

He scoots until his back rests against the foggy glass of the shower, “Alright, Birdy. Care to explain what’s going on now?”

Keigo stands up to wash his hands and looks at Touya over his shoulder with a raised brow, “I think it’s you that needs to do some explaining,” and turns his gaze back to the sink, “But I’ll ask you about your side of things later when you’re well, and the sun is up.” 

Touya fidgets a bit in shame. He never expected to actually live after the day he sought out his father. He doesn’t know what to say, never planned for any kind of confrontation. That’s what The Will was for. 

‘Shit.’ 

His eyes widened, “Kei, how long have I been out? Do people think I’m dead?”

Keigo wipes his hands and sits down next to him, “You woke up after a week the first time, and it's been about four days since. And, no, I assume the general public just thinks you’ve disappeared, all mysterious and villain-like. Don’t worry about the League, I’ve been giving Twice updates. Why d’you ask?”

Touya shakes his head, absolutely not ready for this conversation, “Later,” At least he doesn't have to call Giran to let him know he’s still alive. His death would have been all over national news if it actually happened — a win that hero-society would surely boast about. “Tell me what you know, and how my… You keep bringing up Natsou, and I’m pretty sure you said Shouto ‘stopped me’. What do you mean by that?”

“Oh,” Keigo perks up, “Natsou and Shouto are asleep in the guest bedroom.”

Touya feels like he’s going to faint, “What?” 

Keigo’s head falls back to the glass and he rolls it over until he’s facing Touya, “Like I said, Shouto stopped you. He’s Endeavor’s intern this year, y’know?” Touya shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. He didn’t know. Keigo continues, “He told me he heard your conversation with Endeavor, where you basically outed yourself, which I’m pretty sure was on purpose. When I arrived at the scene, he didn’t want you arrested and taken away, so I brought him here with me. He's been coming back ever since, both of 'em.”

It takes Touya a few minutes to digest all this information, “And where is ‘here’?” 

Keigo smiles, “My apartment. I have an empty one that the Commission owns but I bought this one in private with cash,” He winks.

Touya laughs a bit, “Look at you.”

“Yeah,” Keigo laughs, too, before biting his lip, “You were in real bad shape, Dabs. Shouto said you needed a doctor and he was right. I have no real medical training, just basic first aid. He’s the one who called Natsou.”

‘Shouldn’t heroes have medical training…?’ 

Touya’s eyebrows furrowed, “Wait a minute…” He did the calculations in his head, “Natsou’s four years younger than me. That means he would have just graduated university — not a doctor, Birdbrain.”

“I said the same thing!” Keigo exclaimed, “I seriously wondered if Shouto lost his mind or something. But — did you know, your brother is apparently a genius? Yeah, graduated from university early, and is already in his second year of medical school. So, yeah, still a student but — med-student is better than anything Shouto and I were ever gonna get.”   

A smile involuntarily tugs at Touya’s lips, proud of his brother’s achievements but bittersweet in the way he wasn’t there to see it with his own eyes, “Good for him.”

Time flies and life really just goes on by.

“Yeah, you lot are really something else. The Todorokis.” 

Touya rolls his head to give Keigo a look, but it’s softened with a smile. Keigo leans forward to tip his own forehead against Touya’s and he’s finally healthy enough — kind of — to truly appreciate the familiar contact of Keigo’s cool skin against his own fever.  

“So, I’m gonna have to face them both in the morning, is what you’re saying?” 

“Can’t help you out of this one, buddy.”

“Hmm, you could kick them out?”

“I am not doing that.”

read full story here

my other works

[creationsofimaginationsblr]

Greif is such a heavy thing on the heart.

We all have things we regret. 

The lucky amongst us can forget about it. We grow and change, slowly but surely, moving past the event that so brutally ripped us to pieces in the first place.

Some of us, though….we aren't so lucky.

I will be haunted by my mistakes until the day this world falls apart. I will force myself to bear the weight of my sins, and I will push my grief deep down, until it finally eats me alive, leaving this world without a single trace of me and what I've done.

-

We all have things that we grieve for.

Logically I know the demon that haunts my halls is only an illusion. I know this is just a series of what if's, and what could have been's. But it's difficult to drill that into a shattered heart. In fact, I'd argue and say its downright impossible. 

So ill stay haunted by you. I'll see your face where I shouldn't, feel guilt for loving after you. 

"I hope he knows i loved him. That i still do, even after everything."

[raininyourblackeyes]

do you have lots of wips at the moment? if you do, can you pick a favourite or is that like asking to pick a favourite child lmao

When I saw this ask I was watching a movie with my mom and thought I'd answer it later, but I was tired and just went to sleep. In the morning I realized I forgot to do my lab report and by the time I was done with the lab for that day and returning home I had forgotten about it... and that's how I find myself here, 5? days later answering it. Idk how I remembered it honestly.

Apart from some short stories I usually write in my notebooks when I get bored in class, I have two wips I'm working on. One is an orginal fantasy story that I've been slowly writing for a while now and the other is a fanfic that I'm writing for the audience of exactly 4 enthusiastic readers. Honestly it's easy to pick between them, it's my original wip. And now I'm going to rant about both because I'm in a good mood.

Some sort of a summary for my fantasy wip would be: Sixth year of reign of high empress over the newly conquered empires begins with her murder and a heart of the former crown prince of the enemy empire missing from the shrine. What follows is the return of her exiled younger brother to take up his position as the new high emperor, and a violent rebellion fueld by old uncommon illegal forms of powers and lead by a group of batshit insane individuals whose leader is the dead crown prince with a personal vendetta against the new emperor on top of wanting revenge for his empire getting decimated. My personal fave characters to write are the faithless priestess whose entire family is a casulty of war so she got sent to the altars to serve gods as all orphans do except she started dabbling in uncommon powers for fun because they keep a lot of top government secrets at the altars (politics and religion are closely intertwined) and the more she was listening about gods the less she believed in them. That eventually lead to the main goddess becoming interested in her and assigning her as a babysitter to the main character/villain who decided he will simply not follow the normal life cycle and you know.. just not die even though he had his heart ripped out until he gets his revenge (it's a bit more complicated than that). She becomes his most trusted advisor and general and spy and weapon all in one. I also LOVE writing his sister so much, she went from being a little well sheltered princess in the times of war to being gifted to this pirate who helped empress in her war efforts to slaughtering that pirate and becoming the most feared Imperial Storm Mistress. Love the extremely fucked up sibling dynamics she and her brother have going on. Also the emperor! He is so incompetent in running a country but he is trying his best. He is a cringefail, he should have died when he was seven at most (that's the max life expectancy for kids born with his condition - if I'm giving people magical powers but relating that to the physiology then I must give them magic related illnesses), he is super smart, he's been in love with the enemy crown prince since he was like 15-16, he killed the enemy crown prince personally, he is the reason his sister won that war, he does nothing but laze around all day but he will commit mass murder if needs must, believes he's a better person than his sister but is actually much much worse. I'm not even going to get into the main villain/character because that idiot is severely fucked up. Honestly the actual chapters of the story come together with pages long documents on politics and history accounts and explanations of school and law systems, religion, the customs and etc. You know you're in too deep when you send your friends a report on agriculture in a fantasy setting you've made up in your mind. Oh and the magic system is a government scam. There's necromancy and human sacrifices, and weird immortality principles in a society that seems to be perfectly functioning but is actually severely messed up up. The main character is obviously doomed by the narrative, but he's fine with that.

The fanfic I'm writing for my friends is a Bungou Stray Dogs fic I've started in 2020 after a series of funny circumstances and I finished it but one friend who only started watching it this winter because the rest of us wouldn't shut up about season 4 and after she finished watching it, she was sent the famous word documents and she was like wait that's it? Because it ends around the point in plot where season 4 starts (she hasn't read the manga), and she kept spreading the gospel of how messy things could get if I continued it and what am I but indulgent. So I recently continued working on it, except I'm an extra slow writer. It's a story that starts as a canon divergence, then follows canon for a bit but makes things more unhinged, and then diverges from the canon again. Friends have also been bothering me to put it up on ao3 because who wouldn't want to read about "a character doomed and haunted by the narrative is actually the one narrating the narrative but it's unclear whether the objective is to fix or destroy the narrative". I don't think I will upload it tho, so that's it about that.

[leiawritesstories]

Glimpse Of Us

Inspired by the song. Alternate canon. 

Word count: 628

Warnings: mentions of death, one serving of angst mixed with fluff

Enjoy :)

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

My darling Evalin, 

She looks exactly like you. Your hair, your eyes, even your smile. Our Fireheart. Our princess. Our future. The little girl you held for such a short time before leaving us. 

Why did you have to go, my heart? 

 Why could the healers not save both of you? 

Why did we not know that you were ill until it was too late? 

Why am I left behind to raise our daughter without your gentle wisdom to guide me? 

I am so lost, my Evalin. Each time I hold Aelin, reveling in the way she cocoons her tiny self in my arms, a searing lance rips through my broken heart. Each time I look into her bright eyes, I see you. I see my queen smiling back at me. I see a reflection of us, together, and the image brings the brightest joy into my soul. Until she blinks, starts to fuss, and I turn instinctively to where you should be to find myself alone with my daughter. 

I miss you so terribly, my queen. 

Will this pain ever end? Will I ever have a day where my smile is not forced, where my bearing is not weighed down by the absence at my side? Or am I forever doomed to reach into the empty bed each and every morning, the hollow space yet another jolt that you are no longer with me? 

I want to give Aelin the world. I want her to grow up into the queen we knew she would become. I want her to become as strong as you, as wise as you, as fierce as the fire of her ancestors that crackles in her veins. I want our daughter, our Fireheart, to know the truest of love. 

But how will she learn all these things without you to guide her? 

I fear I cannot teach her everything I want her to learn. Everything we want her to learn. Everything she must know to be the queen of Terrasen. 

Oh, how I sometimes cradle our daughter in my arms, staring down into her eyes, your eyes, and I...I see you. I see you staring back at me, your calmness in her placid baby gaze, your fire in her cries. I see us, my beloved queen. I see us. 

I miss you so terribly, my Evalin, my heart. 

I love you. To whatever end.

Aelin’s eyes blurred with tears as she read the sloping lines of her father’s handwriting, the journal pages he’d penned since she was born ripping right into her heart. All of his hopes and fears and dreams and anxieties written openly on the paper for her to see. 

His gift to her on her eighteenth birthday. 

“Father,” she choked out, carefully closing the worn leather cover so her tears wouldn’t blot the pages. “Oh, Father.” 

Rhoe pulled her into his arms, resting his head atop hers. “I love you, Fireheart.” 

She clutched him as tightly as she could. “I love you so much.” Sniffling, she peered up at him, at the salty tears tracked down his cheeks. “You’ve taught me more than everything,” she whispered, her voice cracking. 

He sniffed, brushing the back of one hand across his face. “And I still have so much I want to teach you. So much more that your mother wanted you to know.” 

She handed him a handkerchief. “She’s smiling down on us from above, I can feel it.” 

“We’re both so very, very proud of you,” her father croaked, once again on the verge of tears. “So damned proud.” 

Aelin leaned into her father’s warmth, lending him as much strength as he lent her. “Thank you, Father. For giving this to me.” 

“Thank you, Fireheart,” he murmured. “For being my daughter.” 

[holocene-sims]

hiatus

hello friends, i'm taking a bit of a hiatus! idk for how long but for a few days, at least, or maybe a few weeks. i have a two week long queue, so you'll see posts until then.

my family unexpectedly had to euthanize our cat yesterday morning and i am fucked up over it. i feel like my heart's been ripped out of my chest. after 15 years of perfect health, my sweet girl became suddenly ill and refused food and water, and four days later, when she went blind sunday morning, we knew it was her time to go.

it was the right decision and we were with her until the end, but to be honest, i don't know how to live without her. ariel came into our lives when i was 8 years old. she spent her entire life with me and i have spent over half of mine with her. i can't remember any time she wasn't here and i have no clue what to do with myself now. she lived a very good and very long life but it's never long enough.

[just-bible-musings]

Trust Fall

Having come from a bad home, I have severe trust issues. But mine go deeper than "why was I hurt?" I also ask, "the people that hurt me, why were they hurt first?"

I often say that I was abused every way except sexually. The people who hurt me were also abused when they were growing up, and even as adults. Heck, they abused each other. And I've often asked God why, because if they hadn't been hurt, they wouldn't have hurt me.

This line of thinking led to me to a point where I felt I couldn't trust God. Even though I knew Jesus, I didn't trust Him. Recently, I suffered a severe panic attack. Looking back, I see now that it wasn't my first, but the others were so much smaller and came in such a different form that I thought it was just my terrible temper getting the better of me again. With this one, I spent hours lying in bed, screaming and crying, feeling like my entire body was going to break and crumble into dust. I know it wasn't psychological; it was spiritual. I was filled with demons, and they were injecting every cell in my body with their poison.

I'm not going to go into the subject of whether mental illness is psychological or spiritual, at least not today. What I am saying is that I know, without a doubt, that what I experienced was spiritual. I wasn't sick; I was possessed. Yes, Christians can become possessed. And it starts with not trusting our Saviour and our Father.

I got no sleep that night. I woke up about every hour or so. It was probably around one in the morning before I was able to fall asleep for the first time (for reference, this was on a weeknight, and I have to get up at 6 to be at work by 7). At the worst point, when every blood vessel in my body was burning and I felt like I would break, when my mind was not my own, I found myself crying out, "Father, I don't trust you, but I love you, anyway. You've been good to me. You didn't make anyone hurt me, they listened to Satan; you were protecting me. And you got me away from all that and you've given me good things since then."

And then I was able to fall asleep for the first time. Every hour when I woke up because of the burning, breaking feeling in my body, I had this verse come to mind:

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee. Isaiah 26:3

I would repeat this verse over and over, and ask God for peace, and after a few minutes, I would fall back asleep. I don't remember dreaming at all that night.

The next day, it occurred to me: all my life, I've thought that I was a horrible person and that I didn't love God. I knew God loved me, but because I didn't trust Him, I thought I hated Him. I even told Him so. Even after I accepted Jesus, I would scream at Him, "I hate you! Get out of my mind, get out of my heart, and leave me alone!" It was Satan talking, but I believed it was me.

That panic attack was the worst night of my life, even worse than any of the abuse I ever suffered. It was Satan saying, "I couldn't destroy you with your family, so I am going to rip you to shreds from the inside out!" And that's exactly what it feels like, like massive claws are ripping and tearing away inside me, shredding my insides.

But in the middle of this, when I thought it was all over, I was insane, and Satan had taken me over completely and I was done, I was gone, I was lost forever... the real me came out. The real me said, "no, I love God, and He is good."

And as I thought about this the next day, I finally got my answer as to why the people who hurt me never experienced God's goodness:

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

This has always been one of my favorite verses, but it wasn't until after the panic attack that I realized what it means. Things only work for our good if we LOVE God. I've spent the last few years since I left home saying, "God, why are you being so good to me? Why were you never this good to my parents?" I tried rejecting His goodness and the things He was giving me, because I thought other people deserved them more than I did. This made my trust issues with God even worse- I thought it was a trick, a trap, that He was giving me good things just to rip them all away from me while He laughed.

But I realize now that He's been good to me because, many years ago, I chose to love God and to serve Him. Even before I accepted Jesus, I knew enough about the Bible that I wanted to serve God. I, myself, have never actually done anything to deserve God's favour, but He gives it to me because I love Him.

But my parents are both narcissistic. They only love and serve themselves. I don't say this to hate my parents. In fact, I always hate talking about the bad things that happened to me growing up, because I actually love and respect both of my parents, and I don't want to make everyone around me feel sorry for me and take my side against them or anything like that. But I simply cannot give any kind of testimony without explaining, this was my life.

As for trust, I'm thinking it has to be a conscious effort on my part. I have to choose, daily, to trust God and obey Him. I have a problem with overthinking everything. For instance, I live alone, but I eat a lot. I just have a big appetite, always did. But even I can't eat enough to prevent some of my food from spoiling. So I tend to eat out a lot instead of making food that will just go bad before I eat it all. But then the car breaks down (it's an old car and whoever owned it last apparently did NOT change any of her parts from the day she rolled out of the factory) and I feel severely guilty about all the money I spent on eating out.

But it boils down to trust. It boils down to, "I HAVE to do what God tells me every second of every day, or my life will go to pieces." And people keep telling me He doesn't work like that, but sometimes I have trouble believing it.

So, I have to make a constant, conscious effort to trust Him. Instead of agonizing over simple decisions like "do I boil a pack of hot dogs or go to McDonald's?" I just need to do stuff, stuff that I enjoy, and let God handle the rest. I'm calling this a "trust fall." When we do the wrong things, it's like stumbling and falling; but God says many times that He will catch us if we fall. So if, for instance, there's a cute shirt that I've been staring at on Rosegal for 3 months and it's on sale and I really want it, maybe go ahead and get it and stop worrying about whether or not I should have saved that money instead. I'm not saying "just do whatever I want and expect that God will let me and nothing bad will happen." I'm saying to stop agonizing over whether every little thing is something that's going to make God mad. Start telling myself, He doesn't work that way. He doesn't get mad like that, He doesn't punish us for... for just living and enjoying life. He promised freedom and abundant life (John 10:10).

Bad things will happen, but I need to remember, it's not God's punishment. Satan just wants to keep me in a place where I can't trust God so that he can drag me back down and shred my mind again. In those moments, my job is to hold onto God even tighter. And between those moments, my job is to draw closer to God so I can recognize Satan's attacks when they come.