#it’s so horrible like. before it wasn’t a possibility

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 7 whooohooow. We get the cofee date and more conversation! Yay

Also I'm dead tired, going straight to sleep after posting this forgive any spelling mistakes. Also please point it out to me if I messed up the gender of the reader anywhere. I promise that's just because these are horribly self indulgend and I might slip up and put my own gender in there. But I wanna keep these as neutral and inclusive as possible because we all deserve to be self indulgend with these. Love you all!

< Part 6 | COD Masterlist | Part 8

Simon’s running late and he‘s cursing himself when he opens the door of the café he’s supposed to meet you at (he’s so glad you didn’t tell him to meet up at Johnny’s bakery, he wouldn’t have survived that).

He’s not even sure why he’s late and he’s glad Price doesn’t know about it, the old man would give him hell for not being on time, especially when it means making lovely little you wait. God, he can't believe he's making you wait, his chest tightening up slightly. What if you already left?

As soon as he steps in, he spots you and has to take a second to take the scene in. The café is cute and cozy; you’re nestled into a booth at the back anxiously watching the sidewalk through the window, your mutt laying by your feet. You’re probably looking for him and that makes him hastily walk towards your table. He really wants to kick himself for being late. Way to go and show you how important this is to him.

When you hear him approach you look up and your dog sits up, eyeing him. Your eyes are big and you look like you didn’t expect him to show up at all. Honestly you look like a deer caught in the headlights, like one wrong move might make you bolt (he really needs to tame you, put a collar on you so you won’t run).

Your expression makes Simon want to crumple to his knees so he might beg for forgiveness. His chest is slightly heaving from his race against time and you raise your hand in an awkward little wave.

“Hi…”, you say and hearing your lovely voice immediately makes his heart speed up.

“Hi, sweetheart. So sorry for being late.”, he apologizes and extends his hand for your dog to sniff. The beast recognizes him and deems him harmless, so he pulls out a chair for himself opposite of you. You already have a drink in front of you and you self-consciously stir the apparently empty cup (god, you’re adorable in your nervousness).

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I ordered already, wasn’t sure you were gonna show up.”, you admit quietly, eyes downcast looking at your drink. Simon’s heart breaks. He wants to cover your hand with his and tell you that nothing could keep him from showing up for you even if it means crawling from another grave.

Instead he starts taking off his jacket and says: “I’d never stand you up, sweetheart.”

That makes your eyes snap up to his and he feels his traitorous heart stumble over the next beat. A smile appears on your lips and he forgets what else he wanted to say when your gaze lands on his newly exposed forearms. Your eyebrows slightly lift seeing his tattoos.

Simon’s just about to grow worried that you don’t like tattoos (shit... maybe he should get a laser removal?) when he catches you biting your lips. This time it’s clearly not nervousness.

He’d never admit it but maybe he deliberately flexes his hands and makes a show of getting comfortable without his jacket until your attention is ripped away from him by a waiter asking for your orders (he could seriously knock the poor sod out for that).

When Simon looks at you again your eyes are on his face, your brows slightly furrowed and you cock your head (that would be the perfect angle for him to press his lips to yours). Suddenly he realizes that you’ve never seen him outside of the shop and you’re probably put off by the mask.

“You can ask.”, his voice is gruff and curt and he curses himself. He couldn’t have sounded more uninviting. This is just perfect, at this rate you'll end up leaving before you get your second drink.

“So… I assumed the mask was a hygiene thing but…”, you vaguely gesture to his face. “… evidently it’s not. May I ask why you’re wearing it?”

He barely suppresses a chuckle. Seems like you’re not as reserved as he thought. The pairing of your openness with your timid and shy demeanor makes for an interesting mix.

He finds himself appreciating your directness, something he hadn’t anticipated from you. Then again this date is for you to get to know him and decide whether he’s worthy of being in your presence again (apart from just buying meat).

“’s a habit from my military time. Now it feels odd to go without it.”, he explains simply. He doesn’t see any reason to be dishonest with you. He wants to get to know all of you, uncover all your secrets and hidden parts. If you find him interesting enough to ask about him too, who is he to deny a deity the knowledge about their worshipper?

You nod slowly, scrutinizing him. The next smile you send him is crooked and a bit apologetic. “Doesn’t make it all that much easier to trust you.”, you say.

“And seeing me would? What more would my face tell you?”, he genuinely questions.

That makes you pause for a second and he decides to go on. “People hide intentions behind expressions all the time. Now I might hide my expression but never my intentions.”

Instead of answering directly you look down at your dog.

“Well, Wraith likes you, which really already tells me a lot.”, you say and Simon nearly raises his fist in victory (he’s glad he didn’t forget to put some treats in his pocket).

Wait… “Wraith?”, he nearly chokes on his own spit when he repeats your dog’s name in question. Even after all this time he never asked for the name and never got a good look at his name tag.

Wraith…. a ghost. A ghost!

Your expression turns soft. Simon wishes you’d look at him like that. He’d happily lay on the floor by your feet if it would mean you’d look at him like that. “Yeah… Wraith.”

He watches you in rapt attention when you continue: “I just…”, you chuckle self-consciously. “I never found the idea of ghosts intimidating. And the idea of one of them appearing to you before or after death always sounded more like a guide or companion than horror and fear. Which is kind of what Wraith here is. Most people look at him and find him intimidating, they’re scared, when actually he’s the sweetest, purest pup and best companion anyone could ask for.”

Simon barely keeps from looking at Wraith again. To look for whatever you see in the ugly fucking dog. He’s glad he keeps his attention on you, because you look up, the slightest hint of embarassment on your face, the expression so adorable he feels like fainting (would you look at him like that if he called you his good little lovie?).

“I… sorry it’s silly…”

“It’s not.” Fuck why does his voice sound so raspy. “I like it. Appreciate you tellin’ me”, he quickly adds battling down the sudden urge to tell you about his own Ghost. He consciously keeps his hands from reaching for his mask and running over the skull print.

“I’ve always been afraid of ghosts.”, he admits and your eyes widen incredulously.

“You? You look like ghosts should be afraid of you, not the other way around.”, you blurt and he can already sense the oncoming apology so he makes sure he’s quicker.

“Thank you, lovie. That’s very flattering of you. Not sure how much these…”, and he flexes his biceps obnoxiously for you. “.. would do against incorporeal entities.” (Oh fuck was that weird? He was going for a joke but fuck that was weird wasn’t it? Shitshitshitshit you’re gonna think he’s one of those airheaded only brawn guys)

Simon’s about slap himself when you snort, cover your mouth and giggle, the sound settling warm in his stomach.

Then you seriously nod at him. “Don’t worry, big guy, I’ll protect you from ghosts. They might slip right through your big beefy arms but they’ll miss mine.” You flex your arms too and Simon bites back a grin when he's reminded of how much smaller you are than him. “Thin like trip wire, they won’t know what hit them. Literally.”

He chuckles, earnestly and from deep in his belly, and you grin at him, evidently more at ease. When you settle more comfortably in your chair, not as tightly coiled anymore like you might need to jump into action at any moment, Simon can’t help the protectiveness flaring in his chest. You’re too precious for your own good.

But you don’t need to worry anymore, especially not around him. He'll keep you safe.

You’ve got two guard dogs now.

[ckhaine]

O2, sweven | montréal

ᝰ playing montreal by the weeknd. pairing badboy!jk x afab reader genres best friends + fluff angst smut

( intro ) montréal﹕where you and your best friend want to help each other, but don't want to accept it, leading to complications, hurt and a strong sexual desire.

ch. content MATURE, vulgar language, JK’s a lil mean at the start, self-harm, daddy issues and mommy issues on JK’s end, underage usage of drugs, very light degradation, reader’s soft and caring here, unprotected sex ...

may contain some grammar mistakes, please ignore them!

send your thoughts · montréal mlist

> nother chapter :)) had fun writing this, actually, despite the aches in my hands but i’m hoping it payed off ;; my tumblr has been quiet so i’m praying this brings some activity here, js trying to clean up the cobwebs in my blog. ok bye ♡

ㅤㅤ“Jungkook!” You quietly shout, aware of the large crowd of students in the halls but they’re slowly leaving to their classes.

Walking towards Jungkook who’s busy looking into his locker, getting the books and tools he needs, he turns his head towards you with a raised brow.

Instantly, your hands are all over his face, cupping his cheeks and turning his head side-to-side, checking for any signs of possible harm that could’ve happened overnight.

Jungkook grunts, eyes darkening as his head jerks back, avoiding your touch which does, in fact, hurt your heart quite a bit. “I’m fine.” He tells you what you want to hear, just sternly. Your eyes shine with a small, doubtful twinkle.

“You promise?” You ask, and though it sounds childish, you really want to trust him. “Yeah.”

He won’t tell you about the deep wounds aching his wrist, ones that he caused but he had no part in the reason. Luckily, his arms are hidden underneath the loose, black jacket worn. Jungkook clears his throat, diverting his focus to shoving the necessities into his black school bag.

“Why didn’t you answer my text last night? Actually, I think I texted you, like, five times…? Called, even,” you softly mention, gawking at him like an idiot.

Pathetic. You felt pathetic. There’s no sparkle in his eyes, lacking the warmth they always held. You felt cold, no longer warm. Maybe because his body wasn’t pressed against yours, hugging you tight in his arms, or maybe it’s because you felt like you were begging to be noticed.

You never felt like this before. Makes you wonder why he’s the one making you feel this horrible when you’re staring at your heart in his hands.

His expression remains blank, cold. Almost like he doesn’t want to talk to you. But, why? You quickly look away from him, fiddling with the small pockets of your jeans, and the hoops of your belt. Your thumb traces the tiny diamonds that shine against the thin band.

“No. I wasn’t able to pay my phone bill. I’m going t’class, see y’later.” He brushes you off like you’re nothing but a speck of dust, shutting his locker and walking off.

Leaving you all alone in the quiet, empty hall.

ㅤㅤWiping the white, powdery remainders from his nose, Jungkook lets out a loud cough as he tips his head back onto the back of the couch, letting out a heavy sigh. Just as he’s about the shut his eyes and shift into a world he’ll never experience, there’s loud knocking on the door.

He shoots up, hand hastily dusting off the cocaine on the coffee table before he stumbles towards the door. A shaky hand twists the chipped, faux golden knob, and he’s so close to shutting the door.

Did he want to shut the door out of shame or spite? Spite… what’d you do to deserve that?

“Hi, Kook.” You smile, hands rubbing at your sides, the thick sweater you're wearing not doing enough to protect your skin from the cold night. “What d’you want?” Jungkook breathes out, eyes hazy of the high rushing through his veins.

You shrug, glancing behind his shoulder, into the small home he lives in. Fuck, can you even call it his “home” when all that happens is arguments between him and his parents?

Sighing, a semi-transparent cloud of air forming in the cold, you part your lips to speak. “Wanted to check up on you. Your parent’s home?” You ask, raising a brow in query. “Mom’s passed out, dad hasn’t been home in days. So, uhh, no.” He says with a dry chuckle, letting you in.

ㅤㅤHopefully his brother isn’t bothered by his headboard rocking against the wall. Jungkook’s lips slide against yours, dipping his tongue in your mouth, swallowing your loud moans and whimpers of his name. His knees dig into the firm yet soft mattress, breaking the kiss to watch the way his cock disappears into your dewy folds.

“This your way of checkin’ up on me, huh?” Jungkook comments, making you roll your eyes in annoyance, yet they roll into the back of your head as the tip of his cock kisses your sweet spot. “Pfft, f-fuck you.” You falter.

He lets out an airy breath, straightening his posture so he’s no longer hovering over you. “I’m already fuckin’ you, baby. Don’t be greedy. Take what I give you,” he says in a sarcastic, mocking tone.

Asshole.

Jungkook’s large hands cup your hips, his thumb gently brushing over your pretty, moisturized skin. The soft, warm light of the lamp on his nightstand grazes against your skin, making the sparkle of the tears in your eyes brighter. Making his pride much, much higher.

“Yes, yes, yes—” You gasp, eyes wide and round while he roughly trusts into you; like he’s using you for his own pleasure yet that’s all you want.

A knot forms in your stomach, causing you to throw your head onto the large, white pillow behind you. The scent of musky cologne, shower gel and cigarettes lingers on his pillow. The same scent that lingers on his clothes—the comforting one that’s embedded into his skin.

You let out a loud whine, one that’s close to a scream while you come undone. Your thighs shake as your nails claw into Jungkook’s skin, knowing you're leaving red crescent moons. Long, red lines on his tan skin.

It triggers his release, burying himself inside you as deep as he can as his shaft twitches, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, feeling your hand present at the back of his head. Your fingers tangled within his dark strands due to the sensitivity.

Jungkook flops down beside you, on his back, panting and licking his lower lip. One of his arms is tossed over your torso, the bandages you had put on his wrists covering up last night’s misery.

“I’m sorry,” you abruptly say, glancing over at him with sad eyes. The hand over your torso shifts, moving up to sensually brush his fingers against your cheek. “I-I hate that this happens to you—it’s so messed up ‘n I—”

“Baby, enough.” He sighs, leaning over to plant kisses all over your sweet face, hoping to kiss away that frown that’s on your lips. “It’s not your fault. I’m right here, no? Breathing, alive... I’m okay.”

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Your works are absolutely marvelous, It’s so nice to see so much Donna content.

Would you enjoy writing of how donna and her maid slowly fall for each other over time, maybe even one of them finally confessing? Any direction you want to take it I know it would be lovely.

Love your writings !! :)

Yess!!! Here it is!! Thank you for your words!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

I'm not going to break your heart

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader

Warnings: angst, mental health issues, Donna being Donna, fluff,

Word count: 5,408

Summary: You are Donna's maid. She's a complicated woman, but... Maybe with time you can be able to know her...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Oh, this is too long... Again, I'm sorry... Requests are open!!!! I love you all!!! :)))

The village was a horrible, dark place. Even though you were born there, you never felt comfortable. The poverty, the humble lifestyle that was lived there didn’t matter. No, that wasn't the problem. The problem had its own name: Mother Miranda.

The priestess ruled the place. You, the villagers, were a simple flock that followed her footsteps. You never agreed with it, but you knew your life depended on it, literally.

“Did you want to see me, Mother Miranda?” You asked respectfully, with your hands trembling from having that woman so close to you.

“Yes...” She sighed, barely looking at your face. “(Y/N), right?”

“Yes, Mother Miranda,” you answered with your head bowed, fixing your gaze as far away from hers as possible.

“How old are you?” Miranda asked. Of course, a person like her could ask those kinds of questions without fear of seeming impolite. She also wasn’t a woman who liked to waste time.

“25, Mother Miranda,”  you said with a voice broken by fear.

“Mm,” she murmured, barely paying attention to you. You certainly preferred it that way. “You're not married, are you?”

As strange as the question seemed to you, you knew that answering was the only way to get out of that church as soon as possible.

“No, Mother Miranda, I’m not married.”

The priestess raised her head. That golden mask hid almost her entire face, but her icy eyes were still able to pierce your insides.

“Why? Can't find the right man?”  She asked with a sigh, walking in circles around you, as if she were one of the hundreds of crows that flew over the village constantly.

“No, it's not that, Mother Miranda... I...” You stopped just before the words left your mouth. No, she didn't have to know the real reason for your lack of interest in men. It's true that the sexual preferences of the villagers were of no interest to her, but who knows.

“I don't mean to judge you. I'm just making sure you're available. I have to ask you for a favor.

You had to be the maid of one of the lords. That's what she wanted from you.

You had never considered serving any of them. You had heard horrible things about the castle maids. But it's not like you could refuse.

Fortunately, the castle was not your destination. Apparently Miranda wanted you to serve the youngest lord, the solitary and almost unknown doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

Although at first the woman in black refused, all you had to do was to say that it was Mother Miranda's thing and then she reluctantly accepted your services. You had heard horrible things about that woman: that she was crazy, that she could make you kill yourself, that she made you experience true fear... None of that happened, unless your greatest fear is the feeling of emptiness and loneliness.

“Good morning, my lady, have you rested well?” You asked politely like every morning and, like every morning, a slight nod from the lady in black was the only response.

Not even the mystery that black veil hid made the days go by faster. Clean, cook, do the laundry. Your tasks were boring and empty, at least if the Angie doll didn't feel like bothering you.

And again, silence. A dead silence that weighed on your shoulders. You weren't exactly a talkative girl, or one who enjoyed contact with other people, but you would have appreciated some communication from the lady in black.

“Be careful, my lady, it’s still very hot,” you said hastily, making a clumsy gesture to take the coffee cup from her hands.

She backed away like she always did when you got a little closer.

“Donna likes her coffee warm, idiot, not hot as hell,” Angie protested, with a cocky pose.

You rolled your eyes without her seeing you. She was a terribly impertinent doll.

“I'm so sorry, my lady,” you apologized, grabbing the cup carefully. “I'm going to fix it right away.”

“It doesn't matter,” a soft, hoarse voice came from the veil. It was the first time she spoke to you in her own voice.

In those first two months not a single word had come out of her mouth. You supposed that was a good thing, but you were still afraid. Your friends warned you several times to be very careful with that woman.

“I... Fine, my lady," you said, lowering your head and moving away from the lady, who seemed to be studying your gestures.

“You useless maid,” Angie whispered with a childish laugh.

“I’ve already said I'm sorry,” you said, unable to suppress a growl that passed through your throat.

“Enough, Angie. Leave her alone,”  Lady Beneviento spoke again to your surprise. The doll obeyed, huffing and muttering what you thought were insults directed at you, of course.

“You know what? I'm going to cool the cup, so it won't be so hot,” you said, determined to please that stupid porcelain doll. Donna didn't scare you that much, but Angie… Angie was really scary.

The nervousness of hearing her speak for the first time, and the fact that the coffee was too hot, caused the cup to fall to the floor with a clumsy movement, breaking into a thousand pieces.

“Oh, my God... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” you said, hurriedly bending down to pick up the pieces of porcelain.

The lady in black stood up, looking down at you, probably also scared by the sound of the cup breaking.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” you repeated nervously, avoiding looking at that black dress. “I'm so clumsy... Forgive me, I beg you.”

You expected  some angry shouts, even the teasing of the Angie doll. But none of that happened. Instead, you thought you heard a soft laugh coming from the black veil.

“You’re begging me?” She asked curiously. “It's just a cup.”

“Yeah, but, but I...” You stammered, not being able to stop shaking, something that apparently caught Lady Beneviento's attention.

“You're afraid of me,” she whispered, grabbing one of your wrists roughly.

“What? I don't...” You said, surprised by those words.

 “It wasn’t a question. You're afraid of me, you're shaking,” Donna said with a more serious tone while you stood up with the pieces in your hand. “Do you think I'm going to hurt you?”

You didn't really understand the reason for those strange questions. Unfortunately, you couldn't say she wasn't right. You knew who she was, the things she was capable of. In the two months you had been in that house, you had never made a mistake, until that day. You didn't know what the consequences were going to be.

“I... I'm going, I'm going to throw this away and get something to clean the floor...” you said, cowardly fleeing from that conversation, from the first real conversation with that woman.

“No, stay,” the lady ordered, with a demanding tone.

“My, my lady, I...” you murmured.

“What have you heard about me?” She asked, sitting down in the chair again without taking her eyes off yours.

“About you? I don't... I don't understand...”  You said, looking for a hole in the floor to disappear instantly.

“You are my maid, (Y/N). I want you to answer my questions,” the doll maker said, hardening her tone even more, squeezing her hand tightly, as if she were losing her patience.

“My lady, I...” you said in a low voice, unable to understand the situation you found yourself in.

“Answer, stupid, stupid,” Angie demanded, comically leaning over the table.

“Well I...” you said, avoiding looking at her, thinking that maybe running away was a good idea. “They say… They say that you are capable of making people feel real fear, that you can… That you can do horrible things to them.

Donna nodded slowly, listening carefully to her words.

“So do you think I’m going to do horrible things to you just for breaking a coffee cup?” She asked again, seemingly calm, although her clenching hand said otherwise.

“I don't know," you admitted crestfallen, noticing how your nervousness made you stab one of the pieces of porcelain in your hand.

“You don't know,” Donna sighed, with a slightly ironic tone.

You just shook your head.

She was quiet for a moment, looking at you, barely moving. The strength of her hand decreased until her knuckles returned to their original color.

“Pick up this mess and get back to your tasks. I'm not hungry,” she ordered you angrily, getting up from the chair and disappearing from the living room like a ghost.

“I... I didn't mean to...” You stammered, asking yourself what was your mistake.

Her footsteps didn't stop despite your attempt to apologize, disappearing down the old elevator.

“Great...” you whispered, shaking your head.

The days went by. There were no more talking, no more broken cups. The fear you felt was gradually changing to curiosity. What the hell was that reproach about? Were you afraid of her? Of course you were. You knew who she was, the things she was capable of.

One morning, calm as the others, you were cleaning the dust from the stairs, wiping the cloth over the frame of that portrait; the portrait of a stoic woman, with a cold look but undeniable beauty. It was Donna, you knew it was her. You wondered what kind of problems she had, what tormented her so much. Why she didn’t want to show her face, one that you thought was beautiful.

“What is wrong with you?” You asked, looking at the cold eyes of the painting, shaking your head.

“(Y/N),” a hoarse voice interrupted you in your absurd dialogue. The lady in black was standing in the hall. You didn't know how long she had been there, watching you.

“Oh, Lady Beneviento,” you said embarrassed, with a polite smile.

“Who were you talking to?” She asked curiously, tilting her head slightly.

“Oh, I... With no one, with, with myself,” you responded. Actually, you weren't lying.

“Do you talk to yourself?” She wanted to know, getting a bit closer to the stairs.

“Yes, well, it helps me to pass the time,” you said, trying to make sure that the trembling of your hands wasn't so noticeable.

The lady in black nodded slowly, clasping her hands in front of her.

“Do you know how to sew?”

“Sew? Oh, sure,” you said, scratching the back of your neck nervously. “And I'm pretty good at it, to be honest.”

“Fine. Come with me,” the lady said, ignoring your joking attempt, turning around and walking away from you again.

You, of course, followed her silently to the old workshop where she spent most of the time.

Without saying a word, she placed a chair next to a sewing machine and motioned for you to go with her.

“What do you want me to do, my lady?” You asked curiously, while Donna searched through the fabrics.

“The machine has broken. Until my brother comes to fix it, I need you to help me make the dresses for these dolls,” Donna said with a dry tone, handing you the needle and thread and pointing to two porcelain figures.

 “Oh, okay,” you said, taking the objects, accidentally brushing her incredibly soft pale hand.

“Will you be able to do it?” She asked, handing you several fabrics.

“Sure, of course, my lady,” you responded, nodding.

“I hate that,” the lady in black said with a growl. You opened your eyes, surprised and confused, looking for a thousand ways to apologize, you still didn't know why.

“What?” You asked, sounding truly stupid.

“I have a name, you know?” She said with a reproachful tone.

“I don’t…” you stammered, looking around erratically.

“My name is Donna, not my lady,” she said nervously, tightly grabbing one of the gray fabrics. “I don't want you to call me that way again. Is that clear?”

You, almost out of breath from those words, nodded slowly, forcing your legs to stop shaking.

“As you wished my... Donna,” you whispered softly, trying to distract yourself from that conversation.

“Your Donna?” she asked with a different tone, an amused one? “I think you're confused, (Y/N). You’re my (Y/N).”

“Oh, of course, I... I didn’t mean to say that you… I...” You stammered, digging the needle into your finger due to your agitated hands.

“I was just joking,” she murmured, sighing and returning to the fabrics. “You are still afraid of me…”

“No, no. I…” You said hurriedly. You began to think that silence was your ally in that house, not your enemy. You wish you were dusting and talking only to yourself at that moment.

“Look at that doll over there,” Donna said, pointing to it. “I want a dress just like that one.”

“I... Okay,” you said, relieved to return to your increasingly appreciated silence.

Time passed slowly, with the only sound of an old clock breaking the calm of that sinister workshop. The two of you sewed in silence. You were surprised by the skill and delicacy with which she treated each of her works. A feared, dangerous woman did everything possible to ensure that the dolls she created were perfect.

From time to time, you looked at the side of her face; a pale face, partially covered by that horrible black veil. A normal ear, black hair apparently tied up... There was nothing that made you think that this woman was a monster, as the villagers liked to say. For some reason, you felt some discomfort being around her. Not because of her subtle lavender scent or because of the fear she might give you. You felt that somehow, you needed to set the record straight, that you had to let her know that you weren't as scared as she thought.

“Donna,” you said, in a tone so low. You doubted she had heard it.

The lady in black turned her head slowly, but without stopping sewing that small dress.

“I'm sorry,” you said, playing with the black thread in your hand.

“What are you sorry about?” She asked, looking back at the dress.

“I'm sorry I said... Well, I'm sorry you think that...” You stammered, feeling horribly ridiculous.

“I don't like when you stutter, (Y/N). Speak clearly, please,” she asked you kindly.

“I'm not afraid of you,” you said, closing your eyes and praying that Donna wouldn't look at you right at that moment.

“Sei una bugiarda,” she whispered, shaking her head.

You frowned, since you didn't understand her words.

“What? Sorry, I don't understand.”

“I said...” The doll maker said, with anger showing in her voice. “…You are a liar.”

“No, I'm not lying,” you said, stopping sewing and crossing your arms. “Maybe, maybe at first I was afraid. I'm not going to deny it but... This time I've been here... Well, the truth is that I can't complain. What I want to say is that... I’m, I’m comfortable with you,” you said, feeling a knot in your stomach, as if you weren't really just telling the truth, as if those words were hiding something else, something that you couldn't, or didn't want to see.

“Are you?” She asked, also leaving the small dress next to her.

You nodded.

“This is the first time someone has said something like that to me. Excuse me if it's hard for me to believe it,” Donna said crestfallen, playing with her hands in her lap. That was like she was feeling shame too. Curious

There were no more words. After that declaration of sincerity, you returned to your work, to your needle and thread. Donna didn't seem to think about it. You, on the other hand, began to notice a different nervousness when you were next to her.

 Time, days, weeks, months continued to pass. You couldn't say that you had a good relationship with Donna, but it improved a lot. Now, she allowed you to read next to her. Little by little you began to have more developed conversations. Always about banal and absurd topics, but conversations, conversations that didn’t include the words: I'm sorry.

That kind of a beginning of a friendship made your attitude change, looking for the lady in black yourself, wanting to spend more time with her. Maybe it was your imagination, but you had the feeling she was doing exactly the same.

Many times, when you were cleaning the dust in the living room, she would appear by surprise, approaching you, pretending to look for a book on one of the shelves. You knew she was pretending, since she always picked up the same essay about mountain plants.

What was happening? You were dying to find out.

“Happy birthday, (Y/N),” you sighed as you opened your eyes. It was your first birthday in that house. You weren't expecting calls from your friends or your family. Surely they thought you were dead a long time ago. It was not something strange in that village.

You went down the stairs yawning, passing by the portrait that, for a while, began to give you chills. It was no longer fear, or uncertainty, it was something else, something you were ashamed to say.

On top of the dining room table, there was something different. It seemed as if… As if someone had given you a gift. A beautiful rose decorated what looked like a carefully wrapped package. Next to it there was a card.

You picked it up suspiciously, wondering who had been thoughtful enough to send you something like that. There was no way you believed Donna had anything to do with it.

I hope you can enjoy your birthday the same way I enjoy your company.

Donna

“What? You're kidding me?” You whispered with wide eyes and trembling hands. Had it been her? It seemed incredible. Would it be a trap? There was only one way to find out.

You unwrapped the small package carefully. You didn't know what to expect and you didn't know why your heart was beating so fast.

“Oh, wow...” You whispered when you took a small bracelet with gold and silver tones out of the box. It seemed like something very expensive and unexpected. “My God… It’s amazing…”

“Do you like it?” a familiar soft and hoarse voice spoke behind you. There was Donna, with a formal but nervous posture, studying your gestures. Frightened, you put your hand on your chest.

“Donna, I... You didn't have to,” you said, smiling, running your fingers through the small golden flowers that adorned the bracelet.

“I wanted to do it,” she said, abruptly.

You nodded gratefully, awkwardly trying to place the gift on your wrist.

“Wait, let me help you.”

Donna approached slowly, taking the bracelet in her hand and wrapping it around your wrist. The touch of her skin against yours made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Maybe it was because she had never been so close to you, or maybe it was because you wanted her to be that close.

“I... Thank you very, very much,” you said, looking at your now decorated wrist.

Her hand stayed in yours, you assumed due to inertia. Her fingers played with yours naturally, but with the feeling that they had no intention of letting yours go.

“You deserve it. I... I, I like you're here with me,” she said shyly, pushing her hand away from you when she realized where it was.

“It's quite a compliment my... Donna,” you said nervously, not knowing whether to go back or advance a few inches, confused by the feeling of wanting to do it.

“Your Donna,” she repeated with an amused tone. You smiled back and for a moment, a kind of out-of-nowhere tension came between you.

“I... I better go to prepare breakfast,” you said, making the decision to move away. She sighed and shook her head.

“Let me do it myself. Today is your birthday. Also, it's a great day. Would you like to have breakfast outside? You know, together,” she asked, looking away from you.

“Of course, I would love to...” You sighed, staring into her black veil.

From that moment on, something you couldn't see had begun. You no longer ate separately, you had stopped distancing yourself. You began to eat together, to watch movies together, in short, to be together.

You already knew what things you could say without make her mad, the things you could talk about without fear of punishment. In an instant everything became different, almost as if it were a dream, or a creation of your mind to make your life a bit more pleasant.

Of all the people in the village, you never imagined you would have feelings for one of the lords. Yes, feelings. You could no longer deny your nervousness when being with her, your heartbeat every time she touched you. Maybe you were losing your mind, or maybe it was already lost.

One night, like every other night for a while, you looked at the bracelet on your wrist in the moonlight. Sleeping was a luxury that your thoughts no longer allowed you to do. You thought about her, about Donna. You wondered why people said those things about her, why they thought she was a monster when she never was such a thing for you. You were also looking for an excuse to stop feeling the things you felt, to refuse to admit that you were falling in love with her.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” A squeaky voice brought you out of your self-pity. The Angie doll suddenly came into your room, jumping onto the bed and shaking you.

“Angie, what's wrong? What do you want?” You asked, moving the wooden arms away from your body.

“It's Donna, Donna has problems,” the doll said, visibly nervous. You stood up immediately, frowning.

“What problems? What's wrong?”  You asked following the puppet out of the room.

“She has lost her mind again! Help her, help her, please!” Angie shouted, dragging to the old elevator.

“Okay, okay, calm down...” you said nervously, trying not to trip over anything in the dark.

You knew that Donna sometimes suffered from anxiety attacks, that her mental problems were always lurking. You had always left her alone. You were never allowed to help her.

“Donna?” You asked entering the bedroom, where the lady in black was, sitting in the corner, balancing with her knees on her chest. “Donna, what's wrong?”

“No! Stay away!” The lady in black screeched, putting a hand in front of her. “They, they will catch you!”

“They? What are you talking about?” You asked carefully, approaching slowly and crouching down next to her. “Hey, Donna, calm down.”

“Go away! I don't want them to hurt you!” She screamed again, hitting the wooden floor with her fists. That had to hurt.

You, ignoring her delirious screams, grabbed her wrists to prevent them from going down again.

“Come on, calm down, Donna...” You whispered, trying hard to keep her hands from moving. “Everything is fine, I'm here.”

“They, they whisper things to me... they want, they want to hurt us...” She murmured, with her gaze lost, shaking her head.

You were so nervous that you hadn't even noticed a small detail. The black veil that covered her face had disappeared. The mysterious Donna Beneviento revealed herself to you without wanting it.

It was a beauty incomparable to any other, a scared and hurt face, a scar that took up part of the right side of her face. That was the reason. That's why she wore the veil. Her black hair was tied up in a messy bun, harmoniously framing her features. You could have been staring at her face, at her newfound beauty. But it wasn't the time.

“They want to leave me alone!” The lady screamed, fighting against the force you exerted on her arms. “Get out!”

“Donna, come on, relax. There's no one here…” You said, pushing your way through her spasms, kneeling in front of her. “No one wants to hurt you.”

“No... You will abandon me... They have told me... You are a bitch!”

You shook your head, feeling deeply sad at being unable to bring poor Donna back to her senses.

“No, stop, honey... You're going to hurt yourself, come on, stop, Donna, come to your senses. I'm here with you, I will never abandon you. Do you hear me?”

When her attempt to hurt her hands stopped, you took the opportunity to bring yours to her face, cupping it firmly so she could look at you. Her eye was red from crying.

Her breathing relaxed a bit, letting her arms fall to the floor and looking at you in panic.

“That's it... Relax. Nobody is going to hurt you. I would never allow it... Come on, breathe, breathe with me...”

She followed your orders, despite still being nervous. Your hands caressed her face lovingly as you brought her forehead against yours.

“Okay, Donna... Breathe... You're safe...” You whispered affectionately as her hands returned to your wrists, gripping them tightly but with no intention of causing harm.

“(Y/N)...” The lady in black sighed, moving away from you and bringing one of her hands to her uncovered face. Unfortunately, she realized that you had seen her.

“Shhh, no, it's okay,” you said when she thrashed around in your arms again, trying to escape your grip.

“Let me go! Don't look at me!” Donna screamed, pushing you angrily, causing you to fall to the floor backwards.

“Hey, hey, come on. It's okay,” you said, standing up, grabbing her wrist when she was about to run away. “Donna, stop.”

“No, no... Why did you have to do it?!” She wailed with a heartbreaking cry, stamping her feet hard on the floor, making even Angie hide behind a piece of furniture.

“I just want to help you,” you said, with tears in your eyes. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. “Come on, come here…” you whispered, extending your hand towards her, who pushed it away with a resounding smack.

“I'm a monster,” the lady in black said sobbing, turning her back on you.

“No, no, Donna, you're not,” you said, approaching cautiously, putting a hand on her shoulder. You didn't know the limit of her patience, especially in that state. “You are a beautiful woman and… And a  kind one. I love spending the day with you, reading with you... You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met and I...”

“Do you think you can fool me?  Do you think you can make me believe that you appreciate me? That’s what you want? Do you want me to fall in love even more and then abandon me?”

“What? No...” You said with a sad look, without paying attention to her words. At least at first.

“You’re lying”

“I'm not lying,” you whispered as she turned towards you, head down, embarrassed by her appearance. “You are… You are special to me.”

“Do you know how many maids like you have told me those stupid words?” She asked, abruptly removing your hand from her shoulder.

“No, I don’t know.”

“They were all the same, liars who only wanted to rob me... Insult me, some of them even tried to kill me... You are all the same... You’re just bitches, all of you.”

“Donna, stop saying those things... Your words are hurting me,” you sobbed, shaking your head and trying unsuccessfully to caress her cheek.

“And to think that you were different from them hurts me too. I thought you felt something for me,” she accused with a sigh, with a dangerous look.

“Donna, I...” You said, incredulous at the pain in her words. “I feel something for you. I don't know what horrible things they've done to you but... But...”

“Shut up. Look at me! She screamed madly, grabbing your head tightly, making you look at her face, making you unable to look anywhere else. “No one could feel anything for me, I'm horrible and you know it. I really loved you, (Y/N). I really thought you were different.”

“Well, I'm different,” you protested, lowering her arms abruptly.

“Get out my sight. Take whatever you want from the house and disappear forever. I don't want to think you're telling the truth just for breaking my heart later. Leave before I feel the need to hurt you.”

“What? No, I don't want to leave,” you said with a grimace of displeasure. “I don't want to leave. I want to stay with you!” You screamed, desperate at your inability to reason with her.

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying! I love you!” You shouted, confessing a truth that was already beginning to be too heavy on your head.

“You can't love me!” Donna screamed back, pushing you angrily by your shoulders. “You can’t…”

Before she could react, you approached her, grabbing her chin, taking advantage of that small moment of delirium. Your hands traveled to her waist, gently pulling her towards your body. One of them went up to her cheek, caressing it slowly as your head leaned towards hers, closing the distance between you with a slow, but firm kiss.

She gasped in shock, but she made no effort to move away from you. Her entire body relaxed and her hands rested on your cheeks, keeping your lips glued to hers, not wanting to lose that contact, that sensation that your kisses caused.

“(Y/N)...” She whispered into your lips, separating slowly before launching herself into them again, deepening the kiss, in a messy but affectionate way.

“I love you, Donna...” You said sobbing, cupping her face in your hands, with your lips still very close to hers.

“You, you’ve kissed me,” the doll maker said, confused, but not wanting to move an inch. “No one had ever kissed me…”

“That's because they didn't feel what I feel for you...” You said tenderly, sincerely, grabbing the hand that rested on your cheek. “I don't care if you don't believe me, but every day I thank Mother Miranda for send me with you, Donna. I don't care if you don't believe me when I tell you that you are beautiful, that I hate the veil that covers your face. I don't mean to trick you, to hurt you, I just... I just want to be with you... My Donna...”

“Do you want to be with me?” She asked uncertainly, studying your features very closely, her voice trembling.

“I want”

“Aren't you going to abandon me?”

“Never”

An innocent smile spread across her face before kissing you again in an intense, erratic way, not wanting to let you even take a breath.

“I, I would really like to be with you, (Y/N)... I... No one has ever felt that way about me...”

You laughed softly, kissing her quickly again and hugging her tightly, making her feel safe in your arms.

“Let me love you, Donna...” You whispered into her shoulder, pressing her body tightly against yours. “Let me spend my life with you, enjoy how wonderful you are…”

She withdrew slowly, with a sigh that told you something was wrong. Her hands moved down your hips, meeting your own hands as her gaze focused on yours. Her expression had changed.

“I wish I could believe you, (Y/N), but I can’t, not yet,” Donna whispered, bringing a hand to your chest, regaining the distance she had lost. “I have always been so alone…”

“Not anymore, Donna, you're not alone anymore.  You don't have to trust me right now but... I will do whatever it takes to show you that my feelings are sincere,” you said, not letting desperation force you to kneel and beg for a chance.

Her gaze lowered back to your lips, wanting to kiss them again but, at the last moment, she regretted it.

“If you knew the things you make me feel, how fast my heart beats when you're around...” The lady whispered sadly, distrustfully.

“I believe I know. I feel the same way,” you said, letting your heart speak for you.

“Don't break my heart, please...” Donna whispered again, now gently kissing your lips.

“I would never do it,” you said between kisses, letting yourself be carried away by her sweet caresses, caresses that wandered over your body, exploring it cautiously.

“I want to keep kissing you,” Donna said, getting closer, begging not to lose that new sensation for her.

“As you wish, my Donna...”

[eternalsummer2006]

never in my life have i acted this way about a man bro like. why am i sitting here thinking about all the girls that like him and feeling violent. literally something wrong with me

[lilgynt]

my moms insane she was like u were mean to me while you were working…you sent me to work with a broken foot for 3 days i’ll be mean again rn

[danielnelsen]

my dad’s doing an amateur radio competition which is great for him and all, but the interference from his radio keeps crashing my computer and im in a Bad Mood

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Play Pretend

Yandere Past Stalker x Fem Reader

TW: unsettling themes, manipulation, stalking (mentioned), yandere behavior, and drugging

Sizzle. Snap. Pop.

The sounds of eggs frying on a pan filled (your name)’s ears while she sat at the mahogany kitchen table. No matter how many times her husband made her breakfast, she couldn’t quite get used to it… (your name) couldn’t help but feel as if there was something horribly amiss.

A little voice often cried in the corners of her mind that this beautiful man was not her husband. That he was an imposter. Yet she couldn’t understand the voice… this man had to be her husband!

Desiderio was there by her side the moment she opened her eyes when she woke up from her coma. She recalled how his large hands held hers while fat tears rolled down his cheeks. That man clung to her like a lifeline, his lips fervently pressed against the top of her head the moment her eyes fluttered open.

And here she was today! In their house that still felt foreign to her despite the two months that had rolled by… a foreign home with no tv nor a radio. A home full of books, plants, and even six photo albums of her. Yet there weren’t many pictures of the two of them together... Desiderio was an incredibly passionate man when it came to her. (Your name) had no doubt this man worshipped the ground she walked on.

(Your name) jumped when a neatly prepared plate was placed in front of her. Desiderio’s chocolate eyes scanned her face with a frown before he smiled brightly.

“Cara mia, you’re lost in thought again.” Desiderio took a seat beside her, large hand now wrapped around hers. His dark eyes filled with concern. “You’ll get a headache if you think too hard about everything… how about you try some eggs? I prepared them just the way you like them!”

(Your name) smiled at her husband who gently pushed the plate closer to her. “Aren’t you going to eat too, darling?”

The large man shivered at the nickname, a dark blush now on his cheeks. “Yes… but I worry more about you. You’re still so weak.”

Desiderio pressed a kiss on the top of her head before he made his way over to fetch himself a plate.

(Your name) raised a brow at the slightly unsavory taste of the eggs. How odd… had her husband used a new kind of seasoning?

(Your name) continued to much away, blissfully unaware of the twisted smile on Desidedio’s face. The brunette’s hands shook as he tried to keep his breathing calm.

Desiderio had loved this beautiful woman since university nearly a decade ago. He knew they were destined to be together from a single glance and Desiderio would have done anything to make sure that happened…

(Your name) was like a fairy tale princess who was kind to everyone, even someone like him. Desiderio was a loser back then. A nerd with little social skills and a scrawny body, he was half the man his brother was… all his life he was compared to his perfect brother. All because he wasn’t athletic.

Desiderio always yearned for (your name) and her affection. It wasn’t fair that his older brother was the one who swooped her up. His cold, neglectful brother who had the emotional capacity of a rock.

It wasn’t fair! Sirius knew Desiderio loved (your name)! Sirius had everything growing up. The family business, the looks, the love of their parents, the money, everything. So why did Sirius get the girl too?

What could (your name) possibly see in Sirius? Sirius was dull and uninteresting, he was only handsome and the heir to a multi-generational company. He had no other redeeming traits! Desiderio was far more romantic and he always left her loving notes in the locker! Was his heartfelt emotion not enough for (your name)?

Desiderio went into a deep depression when the love of his life married Sirius. He threw himself into medical school and painstakingly climbed up the ladder until he made it to the position of medical director. Desiderio worked out until sweat would puddle at his feet, he grew out his black hair, and he became a beloved member of society to try to forget (your name).

It was pure luck (your name) had gotten hit by that car and ended up in a coma at his hospital. It was destiny that her workaholic husband ignored the frantic calls of the nurses and that he only left his last name down as her emergency contact. It was simply too easy to slip his fingers into the sweet honey pot he had always wanted…

And it was even better that she had amnesia. Now Desiderio could mold her in the way that was always intended… as his wife. There would never be a day where she’d feel unloved or neglected. She’d be pampered and endlessly doted on like the princess she was!

(Your name) let out a cute yawn as she stretched her arms above her head. The sweet sight snapped Desiderio from his musings. Goodness she was so precious… and she was all his.

Desiderio slithered forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders with a smirk.

“Cara mia, it seems you’re still sleepy. How about I carry you back to bed?” Desiderio pressed a tender kiss to her temple. The softest of smiles on his plump lips. “We can lay on each other’s arms for a while longer.”

“You’re always so sweet…” (your name) nuzzled her head into Desiderio’s shoulder as the man gave her a bright smile. “I don’t know where I’d be without my darling husband.”

“You’d just be cold and lonely.” Desiderio would play pretend until the very end.

[ktgoodmorning]

Let me take care of you

Alexia x teen!reader

Angst with some comfort at the end. TW for car accident and kinda a rough family life but nothing too crazy. Based on that request I posted yesterday :)

Masterlist

“Has anyone seen Chiquita?” The captain wasn’t really directing the question at anyone in particular, just whoever was nearby and willing to listen. You were never late. The fact that you hadn’t arrived at the stadium yet was weird to Alexia. You were always early. Really early. Everyone knew you tended to be anxious about being late to things and constantly overcompensated by making yourself far earlier than anyone needed you to be. 

Cata seemed to be one of the only few that heard her question in the chaos of the locker room . “We still have twenty minutes before we’re even supposed to be here. I’m sure she’s on her way, half the team isn’t here yet, there’s plenty of time.” 

“Yeah but we all know how weird that is for her, she’s always really early, maybe I should call her?” 

“Ale,” Mapi laid her hand on the blonde's shoulder in an attempt to calm her nerves. “I’m sure she’s just running a little late. She’ll probably walk in any second now.” The unsurety was clear on Alexia’s face, not quite believing her best friend’s words. “Give it a few more minutes and if she’s still not here, then give her a call.” Alexia nodded, still full of tension but doing her best to remain calm. 

She knew that logically everyone was right. It was still early. She had no reason to be worried about you. Most of the other younger girls weren’t here yet either, why wasn’t she worried about them? But not only was it unusual for you to not be unhealthily early to everything, it was even more unusual that you hadn’t texted her. You always let your captain know if you were running late, even if it still put you at your destination thirty minutes early, you were constantly worried about being late. 

The usually calm and collected captain, had her foot bouncing rapidly as she sat in front of her locker, subconsciously biting at her nails and getting herself worked up over you. She couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander to the absolute worst possible reasons you wouldn’t be here yet.

 “Hey, Ale, I’m sure she’s fine. But why don’t you give her a call, just to calm your nerves?” Mapi knew the woman well enough to know that no matter what she said, her words would mean nothing to Alexia when she was already this worked up. 

The blonde responded with a quick nod while she frantically pulled up your contact. She had already had her phone in hand, checking constantly to see if you texted her, so it didn’t take long to get her phone ringing. All it did was ring. It felt like a lifetime had passed before she heard the sound of your voicemail. 

The sound immediately made her panic, even more than she already had been. It didn’t help when she saw the same look of panic cross Mapi’s eyes as well. 

“Guys, she probably just isn’t answering because she’s driving. She’s still not even late yet, don’t worry.” 

“No, Cata! (y/n) always answers if she’s driving! Her phone is connected to her car so she can’t miss it.” Alexia was practically yelling, not out of anger, just because of how worried she was. 

“And we know she always gets bored when she’s driving! She loves having someone on the phone!” The fact that Mapi was taking this just as seriously as Alexia was a red flag to everyone. Clearly if the two of them were both this worked up, they had a good reason to be.

All your teammates could do to make sure you were okay was continue blowing up your phone with calls and texts, praying they’d get any kind of response. Even if it was just that your car had broken down somewhere or that you were sick in bed, at least they’d know something horrible hadn’t happened. The unknown was what killed them. They had no idea where you were or what was going on and there was nothing they could do about it. 

When the time came that you were officially late, Alexia came to the conclusion that something was officially wrong. There’s no way you would be late. Ever. 

She rushed to get herself game-ready so she could spend the rest of the time before the match tracking you down. Her ponytail was sloppier than she ever let it get on game day, but at the moment she didn’t care, you were the only thing on her mind. 

You were basically a younger sister to your captain. A mix between her younger sister and her child. She was protective over you, even more than she was the other younger players. You were only 18 and had bonded so closely when you joined the team, she couldn’t help but think of you that way. The two of you were extremely similar and she wanted nothing more than to protect you from the world. She didn’t want you to have to face the same criticism as she always did, even if it came from yourself at times. 

The captain decided that she needed to track down the coaching staff and let them know what was going on. Soon they’d be looking for you anyways when they realized you were gone, so she may as well let them know now in hopes they’d have some way of helping.

Mapi was following close behind her as they ran down the hallway to the offices, bursting through the door the second they reached the right one. 

Jona still looked shocked from the captain’s sudden entrance when she started shouting. “Has anyone heard from (y/n)?! She’s still not here and she won’t answer our calls and nobody’s heard from her, I think something’s wrong!” The man still seemed stunned at her lack of composure while he tried to process her words, but the silence aggravated her further. “Can I please drive to her apartment and see if she’s okay? I’m really worried about her, she wouldn’t just do this.” 

This only confused the coach, obviously shocked by her willingness to miss part of their game. “Alexia, you can’t just leave. You’re supposed to be taking the pitch to warm up in a few minutes.” 

“I know, but I’m-”

“No. No buts Alexia. You’re the captain and you have a job to do. I know you’re worried about her, but we’ll have someone else look into it for you. We’re already unexpectedly down a player with (y/n) apparently gone, we can’t lose another one, especially not you. You go get ready. I’ll look into it.” 

The two girls couldn’t decide if they were heartbroken or infuriated. Probably a bit of both. They were both worried sick about you and Jona’s answer only frustrated them more. How were they supposed to play a game when they had no idea where you were or if you were even okay?

...

The game started rough, to say the least. Not for the team as a whole, thankfully. The team itself was doing just fine. But Alexia… Alexia was doing poorly. To anyone else, it looked like her brain wasn’t in her head. And to be fair, it wasn’t. It was on you. You were all she could think about, not even caring about the passes she missed and chances she didn’t take. She was trying so hard to get her head in a better spot, to convince herself that she was overreacting but she just couldn’t do it. The other girls seemed to be able to set it aside and focus on the game, holding onto their trust that whoever was tracking you down would do their job, but not Alexia. 

The second the whistle blew to signify half time, the captain found herself jogging straight to Jona to see if he had an update on you, but he spoke before she could even open her mouth. 

“Alexia we’re subbing you off, it’s clear your head’s not in the game, you’re like dead weight out there.” It was clear he wasn’t happy with her but for once in her life, she couldn’t be bothered about football right now. 

“That’s fine, did you get a hold of (y/n)? Is she okay?” 

“No not yet. She didn’t answer so we tried her emergency contact but-”

“Idiotas! I’m her emergency contact!” Alexia didn’t even bother hearing the coach’s response before she took off running to the locker room, praying she’d have a missed call or text from you. At this point, if she was already being subbed off, then she had no hesitation in going to your apartment to find her yourself if she had to, she just needed to know you were okay. 

When she got to her phone, she couldn’t decide if the five missed calls from you made her more relieved or more worried. On the one hand, at least you were alive. But on the other hand, you knew she’d be at the game so the fact that you called her at all was weird. She pressed your contact as she fumbled for her bag, grabbing whatever she could before running down the corridor towards her car. Nobody needed to question where she was going or what she was doing, everyone understood. 

As soon as she heard your voice on the other end of the line, the older woman let out a big breath and instantly froze in her tracks. “Dios mío, Chiquita, estás bien?” 

Under any other circumstances you would’ve made fun of her for how frantic she was being, but at the moment you didn’t even notice. What started as an attempt to keep your voice steady and avoid freaking her out further, only turned into a choked sob, which did exactly the opposite of what you hoped. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What happened? Where are you, I’m coming.” The sound of your crying sent her back into motion, rushing to get in her car and start driving in the direction of your apartment, hoping that was the right way. 

“I- I- I don’t know.” You shook your head rapidly, as if it would clear your mind. 

“Breathe for me, it’s okay. I’m coming. Are you at your apartment?”

“No. No, I don’t know.”

“Did something happen on your way to the stadium?” Alexia had this sinking feeling ever since she first noticed you were late, somehow already knowing what your answer would be.

“Yeah. Someone hit my car, I’m not far from my apartment. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have distracted you from the game, but I just really needed you, Ale. I really need you here, I’m sorry, I’m sor-” Your own sobs cut you off, but it was maybe better than making her listen to the spiraling panic you were heading towards. 

“Hey, it’s okay I’m only a minute away, I’m almost there, just please try to take some deep breaths.” Alexia had become just as panicked as you were but she was doing everything in her power not to let you see that. She just needed to see you were okay. So she continued speeding, following the route he knew you would’ve taken, keeping her eyes peeling for any sign of you. 

It was only a second later when she noticed your car along the side of the road with the entire back bumper crumpled in. Alexia was flooded with emotions, relief that she had found you (or at least your car) but more panic now that she had seen what your car looked like. She slammed her foot on the brake to pull over behind your car and quickly spotted you, sitting on the curb in front of your car, knees pulled tight to your chest, sobbing. The sobbing wasn’t great but at least you were alive and relatively okay physically, it seemed like.

“Chiquita come here!” You hadn’t even noticed her pull up before he was engulfing you in her arms, pulling you in tightly against her chest, cradling your head while you cried. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. It’ll be alright, I’m here now, you’re okay” The longer you sat in her arms, your gasps for air became more and more sparse and her calming hands on you started to bring you back to your surroundings. Something about the way her hands drew light patterns over your skin always brought you back to earth, something she learned quickly when you started getting closer with each other. 

You didn’t have the best relationship with your parents so it wasn’t all that unusual for you to go to Alexia, upset with something they said to you, looking for some love. It was part of what made the two of you so close. She was the calming parental guidance in your life that you didn’t have otherwise. The whole team was really, but Alexia just filled that motherly role in a way nobody else could, not even your own mother. So this wasn’t the first time she had to calm you down in a situation like this, and unfortunately she knew it wouldn’t be the last. 

“Please talk to me, what happened Chiqui? Are you hurt?” her voice was soft and smooth and sounded like somehow it could solve all of your problems. It was impossible not to give in to her pleading. 

“Ale, I’m fine,” your voice was quiet, full of insecurity. “My car isn’t though and my parents are gonna kill me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell them.”

“Tell them what? What exactly happened?”

“I don’t know,  I was just on my way to the stadium and this car just came out of nowhere and hit me. I think they ran a red light or something, I don’t even know for sure…” you took a moment to look at your captain’s face, struggling to read her thoughts. She was trying to hide her worry from you, not letting you see how scared she was of the idea of losing you, even if she had you right here in her arms. “But I guess somebody called the police, and they came and dealt with all of it. They wanted to send me in an ambulance but I told them I was fine. And then I just didn’t know what to do so I freaked out and called you. And now here we are…” 

“You know it’s not your fault, right? If he ran a red light, there’s nothing you could’ve done to stop that. Your parents should understand that.”

You scoffed at her. Normally you would never scoff at her or risk disrespecting anything the older woman told you but it was safe to say you weren’t totally thinking straight. “Yeah they should understand that but it doesn’t mean they will. They should do a lot of things. They’re gonna kill me, Ale” 

Your voice was dripping in sarcasm but Alexia could hear the hurt coming through, especially as you trailed off at the end of your sentence. Something about your reaction felt more than just you being upset about your parents, she could tell there was something you were holding back from her still. “You’re not okay, chiqui, I can tell. Please just talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling.” She brushed your hair away from your face gently, just now taking a moment to take in your appearance. 

There were minor cuts scattered around your face, much more than she realized. Up until this point she had been so focused on calming you down that she hadn’t noticed anything else. Small shards of glass lined the road underneath your car, presumably from where your tail light and back window shattered. 

“I don’t know, Ale. I just don’t know how to tell my parent’s. They’re gonna freak out. What if they try to pull me from the team…” 

 “You’re eighteen now. They can’t do stuff like that anymore, remember. If they try to kick you out or anything, you can move in with me if you want, or I can help you find your own place. We’ll figure it out. But they can’t do any of that anymore, I promise.” She pulled away slightly, going to stand up, “Let’s get you back home so you can shower and get cleaned up, it looks like your hair is full of glass." The blonde just looked at you expectantly, assuming you'd move to follow her but was met with nothing in return.  

You tried your best to believe what she said about your parents but you just couldn’t shake the worries. You were so used to your parents exploding at you over every little thing, always threatening to pull you from the team. Even if it wasn’t possible now that you were older, you still couldn’t shake the feeling. The idea made you resort back to your usual safety net of trying to protect yourself. 

“It’s fine, I’m probably overreacting. I’m sorry for interrupting the game. I should probably let you get back to it. You can just drop me off at my building. Or I can walk too, it’s really not that far.” You started to push away from the older woman, away from the safety that she provided you. 

Alexia grabbed your arm gently to keep you from pushing her away, knowing exactly what you were doing, but the small action made you wince. The second you noticed the pain shoot through your wrist, you tried to hide the look on your face, but knew you failed when you saw Alexia’s eyes go wide and immediately drop her hold on you. “What is wrong?! Are you hurt?!” 

You used your hand that wasn’t currently throbbing to push her away further. At this point you’d reverted too far back into your own head to use any sort of logic. “Alexia! I’m fine! You don’t need to worry about me, I don’t need your help! Just go back to the stadium so you can still catch the end of the game.”

You should’ve known that Alexia wouldn’t be swayed by your outburst and that it only further convinced her that something else was wrong that you weren’t telling her. This wasn’t like you, at least not with her, and you both knew it. 

“(y/n), look at me!” Her voice was harsher than it had been before, but obviously her soft approach was no longer working. “I have every right to be worried about you, you’re basically family to me and I think you know that.” Your eyes dropped, suddenly ashamed of how you were treating the person who cared about you most. Somehow you had to ruin this too. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not hurt,” as soon as your eyes lowered, so did her voice because she had been in your position more times than she could count and knew exactly how you were feeling. 

Your lack of response was all the confirmation she needed, but to be fair, you didn’t lie to her. You truly hadn’t noticed how badly your arm had been hurting until she had grabbed you. It must have been the adrenaline or the shock from the accident but you had no idea how bad it was until now. Now that you noticed it though, it was killing you. Every attempt to move your fingers sent pain radiating up your arm and throughout that entire side of your body. You’d been lucky with injuries so far, so this couldn’t compare to anything you had felt before.

 Your captain could see the way that tears started welling up in your eyes again and how you bit your lip to try to hold it all in. The look on your face only broke her heart further, wishing there was anything she could do to take away your hurt, both physical and emotional. “I don’t care if you don’t want my help, Chiquita, you’re getting it anyways. I hope you know by now how much you mean to me, so please, just let me take care of you.”

You nodded frantically at her, doing anything you could to prevent your tears from spilling out but knowing you’d fail the second you opened your mouth. You knew it was ridiculous that you were trying to stop yourself when she’d already had you sobbing in her arms just a few minutes earlier but something still made you hold back. At this point you were in so much pain though, you didn’t even care anymore, you just needed her help and you finally knew it.

Alexia engulfed you in a big hug once again, causing you to finally let it all out. It was like that was what broke the damn. You sobbed violently in your captain’s arms. The way you were acting now made your earlier crying look like it was nothing. It was the culmination of the shock from the accident, along with mixed feelings about your parents, your gratefulness for Alexia, exhaustion from the events of the season, and physical pain. So much pain. You couldn’t put any of your thoughts into words, other than crying and the occasional “Hurts, Ale.” You were a crying, whimpering, mess in her arms. 

The Catalonian quickly realized that the extent of your reaction was now mostly being caused by the newfound pain in your arm and that treating your pain would be the quickest way to help you calm down. Whatever your injury was, it had to be somewhat serious or else you wouldn’t be crying this hard, so she knew she had to get you to a doctor. 

When she started pulling away from you to stand up, you grabbed her shirt with your good hand, and yelled at her. “NO! Stay here, Ale! Please!” Heart wrenching was an understatement. 

“I’m just trying to help you, Chiqui, we need to get you to the hospital so they can help with your arm, you’re in a lot of pain.” Somehow you could process her words enough to know she was right, letting up your hold on her shirt so she could stand and pick you up to bring you to her car. She was as careful with your arm as she could possibly be but still every step she took left you sobbing into her chest even more. “I know it hurts, you’re doing so great. We’ll be there before you know it.” Alexia continued whispering to you as she got you both in the car and started driving. Your captain had done this enough to know that it wouldn’t do much but at the very least it might slightly distract you from the pain you were feeling. 

On your way to the hospital, she gave the club a quick call, knowing the game was over and wanting to give them the update that she was with you. She asked them to pass the message on to the rest of the team because she knew most of them were likely freaking out just as much as she was. You were the team baby, and everyone wanted to know you were alive and relatively okay. 

When she glanced over and saw you staring off into space, tears flowing freely, curled up on her front seat, holding your arm to your chest, she knew she needed to call your parents. If nothing else, they could help figure out how to get your car off the street. And as much as you were freaking out about telling them, she thought it might go over better coming from her. It was clear you were in your own little world, not paying her any attention when she cradled her phone between her ear and her shoulder to talk to them. 

As she filled them in on what happened, she knew that it was better that she was one bearing the brunt of their response instead of you. No matter how much she tried to assure them that it wasn’t your fault, they made plenty of comments about how you should have been more responsible or how she didn’t need to take you to the hospital because you were probably just overreacting. That one really killed her. How could they not believe you when she was sure they could hear you crying in the background? She had already been planning on having you stay with her that night but their reactions only sealed the deal. There was no way Alexia could send you back with them instead of coming home with her where she could take care of you and make sure you were safe.

...

By the time you really became aware of the situation again, you were sitting on a hospital bed in the emergency room. Alexia was next to you, holding your good hand in hers and you were suddenly feeling significantly better. “Chiquita! How are you feeling?” Alexia had immediately taken notice of the tiniest movements you made as you woke up and adjusted to your surroundings. You groaned when you realized how stiff you were feeling. Apparently getting hit by a car can do that to you. “Better than I did before, I guess. What’d the doctors say?”

She flashed a smile at you, one that told you you’d be okay. “Well they gave you some pain meds pretty quick, that’s why you’re feeling better. You broke one of the bones in your arm. They think it probably got caught on the steering wheel when you got hit. But it’s a clean break, no surgery or anything, just this cast for a while.” You followed her eyes down to your arm where you could see the cast poking out from the edges of the ice packs they had wrapped around it, trying to adjust it slightly so you could see what color they had used. 

“Ale, don’t tell me they let you pick the color?” 

Alexia let out a small laugh, her first one all day, at the way your usual personality was returning. “The pain meds knocked you out pretty good, they couldn’t trust you to pick one! You were hardly making sense, they had to ask me!” you looked at her suspiciously, knowing exactly what she would’ve picked.

“Don’t tell me you…” 

“I almost did, but no,” she giggled at how well you knew her. “I was going to tell them Barca colors but I decided I better give you your favorite instead.” The older woman rolled her eyes playfully at you. 

“Does that mean it’s-”

“Yes, it’s pink, chiquita.”

“Yay! Ale, thank you!!” you tried your best to pull her in for a hug which didn’t quite work from your spot on the hospital bed. When you decided to give up and settle back into your spot, you met her with a more serious look. “Thank you for everything, Ale. Really. Thank you for leaving the game to take care of me, I know I should’ve called my parents but I just…” 

“I know, I know. You don’t have to thank me. But will you please sleep at my place tonight? You need the rest and I just want to make sure you’re taken care of. I already talked to your parents for you. They’re dealing with your car, so that’s all taken care of. Just please, let me take care of you.”

Neither of you expected you to give in to her offer so easily but there was no way you could turn her down after everything she’d just done for you. Sometimes the idea of letting her take care of you was too much for you, but not right now. You finally had come to terms with how much you needed her and there wasn’t any way you’d mess that up now.

Any feedback and requests are always welcome!!

Masterlist

[targaryenluvs]

— newcomer

pairing: dark!luke castellan x childofaphrodite!reader

summary: luke becomes quite infatuated with you, the newcomer of the camp.

tw: obsession, stalking, distancing from friends, intimidation, luke is like deep in love, my horrible attempt at describing love? kinda lovebomby, mentions of violence/luke attacking others

word count: 1k words

a/n: my second pjo fic! i think percy is next 👀 - i don’t think i outright described a female reader, let me know if i did so i can change it!! i i’m going to try and be more inconspicuous with genders to fit all ❤️

right from the start, luke could tell there was something special about you.

of course he was to introduce himself to the new kids but for once he wanted to meet you. with a warm smile and his reassuring words, you were made to feel at home quite quickly.

you’d thought of luke being friendly in general before learning of the hermes cabin and his welcoming nature, but it didn’t seem to change anything between the two of you. luke was an excellent guide in your eyes, helping you settle into your new life, you were undeniably thankful for him.

he was a pitstop for many, if not all campers once they entered the place, a familiar face to help them all. but for you he seemed to go above and beyond. he wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, and he believed himself to be the key in your life at camp half-blood to happiness. you made him happy.

your bright smile and endearing personality melted his heart, you were a breath of fresh air and he couldn’t wait to bask in it.

even after you were claimed, by aphrodite nonetheless, you stuck around. it made sense to him, you were the most breathtaking person he’d ever seen. whether it was a smile from afar or a long conversation, you always made it a point in your day to spend time with him.

you wouldn’t do that for nobody now would you?

no, your sweet self was kind, especially to him. you liked him, like he liked you, and he’d be damned if he let you go.

you seemed to be the only person who didn’t notice his disdain towards those around you. the way he’d linger around the ares boy who’d been chatting you up at breakfast, the same boy who’d been attacked from behind during capture the flag, suffering a nasty slice on his back.

or how he’d humiliated one of your friends during archery, correcting their stance, taunting their attempts to hit the bullseye, throwing them off and laughing at them when they missed. it was all in good fun, right?

he was like a shadow, unwavering and lurking.

it wasn’t uncommon to find luke a few metres away from wherever you were. to find him accompanying you to dinner, to find the two of you practicing together early in the morning, alone, to focus better of course. slowly but surely he wriggled his way back into your life, all consuming and prominent.

until it was seen as odd to find you alone.

seemingly tied together, woven, meant to be. you completed him, you made him feel alive. you made luke feel electric, on fire almost. your presence and touch began to comfort him most, your voice being the only one to bring him down.

and when you were taken from him, whether by others or in general, he was unbearable.

the shining luke castellan crumbled without his support. he needed you, depended on you, like fire and oxygen, plants and sunlight, a song and dance. you kept him going, you filled his life with purpose, he wasn’t luke castellan, son of hermes, counseller, confidante, friend.

he was lu, he was yours, he was your ‘sunshine’.

and as if he wasn’t already insatiable with you as his friend, when you’d admitted your crush on him, luke was on a whole other level.

“lu,” he hummed, turning his head your way, “i want, i need to tell you something.” the soft grass, the warm sun and gentle breeze, they all calmed his erratic heart. what did you have to say? he despised the idea of not knowing what you were thinking.

luke waited with bated breath, his nails digging into his palm, pressure building, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, not that you’d notice, he wouldn’t let you. “what is it sweetheart?” the two of you were sitting now, previously laid next to eachother on the picnic blanket.

“i think, i think i like you.”

and how could you not?

luke was the epitome of a gentleman, the kindest man you’d ever met. he made you feel special, you could always rely on your sunshine. in the months the two of you had known each other, it seemed he now knew you like the back of his hand. what you liked, what you disliked, the places you wanted to go and the places you’d been. you’d bared your soul to him, and you could only pray he loved you as you did him.

he was your strength, your courage, your friend, even if you hoped for more. he’d been there for you since the start, and you’d be forever grateful. so why not raise your relationship? fully commit to the one person who knew everything?

he’d crafted himself to be yours, to be everything you could ever wish for, as you were for him. luke had been waiting for your complete devotion, and he had it now, no one could make him let go. people often came and went in his life, leaving him in the past, he often felt taken advantage of, he gave up on the idea of someone to stay.

but you’d stay, blind with devotion and poisoned by his love, who on earth and in the heavens could treat you better than him?

your loyal luke.

“well i have a secret for you, only you.”

your eyes lifted to meet his, a small smile on your lips, “tell me luke,” his hand reached for yours, “what’s your secret?” your favourite flower, suddenly pulled from behind your head, placed behind your ear.

“i love you too.” he surged forwards, capturing you by surprise.

was this bliss? is this what it felt to be in love?

luke was intoxicating, his strong hands and loving voice, it consumed you. it was all so much, and it was all you’d ever wanted.

but a small voice in the back of your head was prominent.

you’d never said a single thing about love.

[samkerrworshipper]

how did it end? | arsenal x reader

warnings: suicidal themes, self harm, alcohol abuse, depression

um yeah lol feel grateful for this because i’m going to go ghost mode for the rest of the week! to the anons who have a problem with my writing, don’t fucking read this if it’s such a problem, in fact don’t read any of my stuff at all, my page is a better place without you.

Everything about the day had felt wrong.

Everything about your last month had felt wrong, really the whole year if you thought about it.

It had all started after a blindside move from your home club. Leaving Rsenal had been the worst thing that had ever happened, but you’d known it was coming after they’d signed Russo. There was only so much room for strikers on the team, and your contract happened to be out as the summer started, leaving you as a free agent.

Somehow, you’d ended up at PSG, which you still didn’t understand. There had been offers everwhere, Lyon, Real Madrid, Man City, Chelsea, Bayern, Wolfsburg, yet your manager had fucked you and gone for PSG.

It had been a clusterfuck from the day you’d arrived, the language barrier, your horrible mental state, the different playing structure, the weather, your lonely apartment, the lack of friendships, the lack of support.

It had taken a month before you’d crashed and burned, withdrawing yourself from both club and national team. You’d been lower then low, sadder then sad, completely withdrawn from your own life. You wish you’d stayed, you wish that none of it had of happened, because maybe life wouldn’t have turned out the way it had, maybe you’d be happier.

Your Arsenal teammates had visited as often as the schedule permitted, helped you move your whole life from one country to the other, but at the end of the day you were still hundreds of miles away from them.

You’d stopped answering their calls after a few weeks, too consumed with the completely inebriating struggle that you were going through in Paris, trying to stay true to yourself whilst being so far in the deep end of the pool that you were struggling to keep your head above the water.

After the call to Sarina and the call to your manager it had made more sense for you to return to London, even if it had pained you to do so.

Not a month after you’d packed your whole life away against your will, you were packing it all back up.

You didn’t like what happened in Paris, you weren’t proud of it, all you wanted was to get back to your house in St. Albans, but you were also terrified of what your ‘home’ looked like now. It wasn’t the same place it had been for the last 8 years, you didn’t have your bestfriends as teammates more, you didn’t have any teammates, you were unofficially, self-decidedly, retired. Sarina had begged for you to return, tried to reckon with you, but you were done, your love for the game had died in Paris and you had no desire to re-open the wounds that had been torn into your skin in France.

You didn’t tell anyone, you just hoped that you’d be able to avoid everyone for as long as possible, that you’d just be able to slowly become nonexistent and become forgotten by everyone from the past 20 years of your life, but you were aware that life didn’t work that way.

You were sick of all the pain you were going through, all the suffering that you were being forced to endure for no good reason. You didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, you didn’t feel like you had anybody to talk to about it, it was just you nowadays.

That was how you spent most of your nights, alone.

Alone with a bottle of your posion of choice sitting on your bathroom floor.

It was the only thing that made it all better nowadays, the feeling of alcohol slipping down your throat, typically with a razor blade in your other hand.

There was something satisfying about it all, something perfect about being perfectly intoxicated with a sliver of metal between your finger tips.

On this particular day, you knew you’d drunk to much, but it had all been wrong. You’d woken up with a headache, in your shower, the tiles of your floor stained with your own blood. It wasn’t a uncommon place for you to wake up anymore, but everything about it felt wrong. Your head was aching in a way it never had, your whole body was hurting and for some reason it all just felt off.

You went about your normal routine, pushing the temperature of your shower to as hot as it would go, finding peace in the blistering water falling down across your skin. Once your skin was bright red you’d climb out, falling into your bed to help to sleep off the rift that the hangover had left inside of you. Around midday you would climb out of your bed, slipping out from the covers to enjoy your few hours of life that your days now gave you. Sometimes it would be spent in your kitchen, trying your hardest to piece together some kind of sustenance, other days making and eating food was too hard. On this particular day, you forgoed your kitchen, instead opting to walk straight past it and out onto your patio, as per the usual london weather, it was pouring down, but you didn’t mind too much.

The rain was nice, it reminded you that not everything in life was pretty, your life certainly wasn’t pretty anymore. Rain was a reminder that everyday could be turned upside down just based off of something that was completely out of anybodys control.

After deciding it was a bit too wet to enjoy the outdoors you tracked your way back indoors, your bare feet creasing and digging into the hard, cold wood floors of your home. You eyed off your uncomfortable couch, the one that your manager had found on facebook marketplace which was the most uncomfortable piece of furniture you thought could be bought. It kind of felt like a metaphor for you, you’d been bought, and it had been the worst decision PSG had made, and you were destined, just like the couch, to be thrown away without anybody really knowing or caring.

You walked straight past the couch and back to your bed, there wasn’t any living for you to do today, it just felt that way, so you pulled the covers back over your body and enjoyed the moment of peace that your bed gave you.

It didn’t last long, your body relaxing into the mattress for a few seconds before the restlessness took over. It was like that nowadays, your body never able to stop. You figured it was probably a result of your body going from pushing its limits everyday, mentally and physically to you doing absolutely nothing. Previously, when you’d been in a depressive episode you would sleep all day, no matter what had been happening, but not anymore. Now, you had to drink yourself into oblivion before your body would force itself to relax, you could be as exhausted and tired as you wanted but your body just wouldn’t let you sleep.

Your brain convinced you that your mattress was the lumpiest mattress made, when you really knew you’d hand picked it for it’s comfort. You brain tricked you into feeling like all of your curtains were wide open on a summers day when really they were drawn closed. Your mind was playing tricks on you and you didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

That’s how you’d ended up on your bathroom floor so early, the overwhelming need for you to fix the pain becoming too much for you. With a bottle of vodka in one hand and your scared silver blade in the other you finally found yourself at peace.

The stomachache and burn of the vodka going down your throat didn’t truly matter, not when you were staring down at the thin criss cross of lines all over your thighs.

Some were healed, some were thick, some were thin, some were sore. They all told a different story. Thighs were the easiest, less arteries, good to hide, disguisable. They didn’t bleed the same way wrists did, they bled slow and painfully, a couple of lines never hurt you.

With the mix of last nights alcohol though and the new vodka mixed with the sight of blood you found yourself feeling woozy.

You hadn’t always been a cutter, self-harm hadn’t always been your vice. It had always been football. From the minute the ball was at your feet it had been football, and you wouldn’t of had it any other way. It had been your everything, football had been your life and until it had been taken from you, you hadn’t understood the true magnitude of what that meant. Your life had no purpose, no substance, nothing, without your game. Football had been the only thing you were good at, and you were extremely good at it. You’d given up on school in pursuit of your footballing career and it had been worth it, up until now.

Now your life was nothing but a big mess.

You wished it had worked out in Paris, you wished that you’d been able to farewell London and make a new home in France, but it hadn’t meant to be. All of your talent, all of your love, all of your passion, it was all for nothing now. Everything you’d ever done amounted to nothing, you were nothing without a pair of boots on your feet and a football in front of you.

You were never going to be the same again, it was all different now, and you were man enough to admit that you missed what you’d had. There were things that you lost in life, in the heartbreak and the struggles, you just hadn’t expected that you would lose the meaning of your life in the process. You had a hard time understanding why it had to happen to you, why you’d been the unlucky one. You paid your dues, you’d woken up at 5am every single morning to run drills, you’d worked your ass of and yet here you were, drunk on your bathroom floor wishing that you were gone.

Once upon a time you’d believed that a person would do anything for the thing that they loved most in the world, but you didn’t believe ion that anymore, love was supposed to be the most powerful thing on earth, and yet it had failed you.

It was funny because you could drink all of the alcohol you wanted but it never made you forget about what you’d lost. The hundreds of memories of football over the years, Arsenal, it had all been Arsenal. You’d been the kind of player where you’d always been one club, from academy all the way through to the senior team, you bled arsenal. Nobody even asked you what your dream team was, because it had always been Arsenal, you hadn’t had eyes for anywhere else. Yet you’d been thrown away like nothing.

You’d loved playing for Arsenal, when you put your jersey on at the beginning of every game you felt ten times stronger, qall of your bestest friends had been at Arsenal, your bridesmaids, your for life friends, and yet now it all felt like you were drifting away.

For the longest time you’d chosen the good options, the healthy options, what was right.

Now though, you chose destruction.

You sleep when your blackout drunk.

You drink caffeine late at night.

You stay awake until your eyes burn.

You always say yes to whatever vice your brain can think of.

You drink water instead of food and vodka instead of water,

You’re isolated beyond the point of it being okay, nowadays you spend more time with yourself then anybody else.

Maybe it was the vodka that made you feel particularly adventurous, or the scent of your own blood seeping across your skin, but whatever it was it somehow inclined you to reach for your phone which was rested on the tiles besides you.

You’d turned your notifications off long ago, as soon as the trade had come through.

You’d ignored everyone’s messages for the sake of preserving your own mental state, you couldn’t deal with the constant back and forth of trying to keep friendships which felt like had already gone.

You were more intoxicated than normal, or that was how you rationalized your behaviour, because there really wasn’t any other explanation to it, unless all of the emotions from the last few months had suddenly hit you a lot harder then normal.

But you were sick of being alone, you knew that, you’d been alone for far too long.

Maybe the alcohol had pushed that to the forefront to your mind, or you’d just become inherently desperate.

Your phone rang, the sound vibrating against the tile floor of the bathroom, amplifying it to your ears, the noise ringing out in your ear canal.

It didn’t take long for the ringing to cease, the sound of silence absorbing around you.

“y/n? Is that you?”

You blinked a few times, swallowing down the final remnants of your last swig of vodka.

“Hey.”

Your voice was shaky, from the days of not saying any words at all, you didn;t have any reason to speak if you were all by yourself.

“Hi.”

The silence stayed thick, obviously neither of you unsure about what to say.

“Are you okay, no ones heard anything from you in a few weeks.”

You’d vanished, for the good of yourself.

“I wish I’d stayed, le.”

Their was a deep breath exhaled from the other side of the line.

“I wish you’d stayed too, y/n.”

You couldn’t think of a single positive that had come from you leaving, not a single one.

“I wish I’d stayed now, I wish I’d been given the chance.”

You could fele the tears building up in the corners of your eyes.

“Me too, y/n.”

The tears were falling, the water falling from your cheeks falling onto the blood on your legs, the two liquids mixing together, the blood turning into red as they two mixed, blood did run thicker than water.

“I wish i’d stayed le, I wish none of this had happened.”

You didn’t want to know what the blonde on the other side of the phone was thinking about at this moment, you weren;t thinking about her, just yourself.

“Hold in there kid, for me, it’s all going to work itself out.”

There was no working it out, this was the end for you.

“I can’t do it anymore, I can’t pretend that i wish I hadn’t of stayed, that I don’t spend everyday regretting it, I want it all back.”

You pushed the blade down against your skin again.

Drawing the metal against your skin until the blood had begun to pool at the base of the two or three inch line.

“Where are you kid, are you in Paris? Do you need me to send someone to come and check on you? You shouldn’t be drinking like this by yourself, especially not in season.”

There wasn’t a season for you anymore, you were free, you could do whatever you pleased.

“I’m at home, and I’m fine.”

You pulled the blade up, and onto a new patch of skin, it was all littered with past scars, raised white lines.

“You don’t sound fine kid, I have plenty of friends in France, don’t make me get them to come and hunt you down.”

Her voice was an attempt at threatening, but it sounded more worried then anything.

“I’m not in Paris, I left after my contract was annulled.”

Annulled aka we’re letting you go without any pay but you still technically belong to us until the length of your contract is up.

“Annulled?”

You would have thought Sarina would have told the team, but apparently not.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m retired.”

Retired was not a word that you thought should fall from a twenty four year olds mouth, but here you were.

“Retired? Where are you, y/n?”

You supposed the alcohol might have been making your tongue a little bit looser.

“In my house, in my bathroom.”

Another deep exhale, you could just picture the woman pinching the bridge of her nose, maybe even frowning.

“Your house, where?”

You picked up the bottle of alcohol, taking a break from the razor blade to allow the vodka to ease back down your oesophagus.

“St Albans.”

The line went silent for a few seconds.

“You’re back home, since when?”

Another sip of your vodka.

“Couple of weeks, France wasn’t for me.”

France was the end of you.

“How much have you been drinking? You sound awful.”

You didn’t think you sounded that bad, but you also supposed a sober person would have a different perspective.

“Vodka, feels good le.”

Another deep exhale.

“I’m going to come over.”

Rustling on the other side of the phone.

“I’m fine, I’m good, you don’t need to come over.”

You were lying to both yourself and Leah.

“You aren’t fine, you aren’t good, and even if you want to tell yourself you are, I need to see you in real life because for the last months I’ve thought you were as good as dead. Are you safe, y/n?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question, you hadn’t felt safe with yourself in what felt like forever.

“I’m not unsafe.”

More rustling on the other side of the line.

“Do I need to bring somebody with me? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

You thought about it for a few seconds.

“I’m okay Le.”

The alcohol made you feel more okay then you had been, so you supposed it wasn;t fully a lie.

“You’re drunk at 6pm, I don’t think you are fine. I’m going to go get Viv, she knows how to deal with you when you’re spiralling, I’m going to stay on the phone with you and ask you some questions, okay, I’m walking out to my car now.”

You nodded your head, the realized that Leah wasn’t in front of you.

“Answer me honestly, are you safe right now, do you feel safe?”

You didn’t feel unsafe, you kewn by the looks of things, you were in a unsafe position. Alcohol and self harm wasn’t exactly the safest thing, but you felt at peace, and you knew that you weren’t causing any serious bodily harm to yourself.

“Depends on your perspective.”

You heard the sound of car doors.

“Okay, I’ll break it down, hmm? Are you within arms reach of something that could cause harm to you or others?”

Fuck.

“Yes.”

The sound of the phone connecting to bluetooth and keys in a ignition.

“What?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek.

“Bottle of vodka and a blade.”

It wasn’t hard for you to admit, not when this had been how you’d spent all of your nights the last while.

“What kind of blade?”

You wished you’d stayed, you wished you weren’t in this position.

“Razor.”

You could feel the bile rising in your throat, whether it was alcohol related or from the cosntant questions.

“Alright, I want you to push them both as far away from you as possible, don’t look at them, don’t think about them, think about me. Now, have you caused yourself any harm?”

God, if you’d been able to stay none of this would be happening, none of it.

“Some cuts, le I think I’m going to be sick.”

The tears were full throttle, the sound of somebody’s voice that you’d missed so much in your ears and the vomit bottling itself up in your throat.

“Go to the toilet bowl, let it out.”

The taste of bile in your throat was never going to be something you enjoyed, the feeling of the new cuts along your thighs creasing as you crouched over the bowl stinging in a way that reawakened you.

The vomiting didn’t really stop, the continuous gagging being the only sound in your bathroom, beside the sound of Leah’s car.

Eventually, you finished, all of the clearish liquid mixed with your stomach acid sitting at the bottom of the bowl like a disgusting soup.

You laid down against your tiles, enjoying the cold that covered your skin.

Viv must have been picked up, because you could hear her and Beth talking in the background, beth, happy beth, beth who had once been your bestest friend.

“Bubba, you still with us, we’re just around the corner.”

You let out a groan in aggreance.

They continued to talk to you, allowing you to reply with different huffs and noises as they neared closer and closer to your home.

You ignored the hit of endorphins that you felt melt across you at the sound of your front door unlocking, Leah had kept your key, clearly.

It was a few seconds before your bathroom was crowded by the presence of your past teammates, the three sets of eyes all falling on you.

“Beth, go get a wet handwasher, Leah go get her some water.”

Viv’s voice was soft, but commanding, her body immediately gravitating to your own.

She crouched down beside you, grabbing you by the shoulders and pushing you upwards, bringing you eye to eye with her.

“It’s good to have you back.”

You burst into tears, you’d hated being in St Albans out of fear that you’d be rejected, that you’d be told to go back to France, and yet here you were being welcomed back with open arms.

“I wish I’d stayed vivi, I wish I’d stayed, I wish none of this had happened, I want it all back, I want my life back. I can’t do this life anymore.”

Viv brought you into her arms.

“I know liefje, I know, it’s going to be okay, we’re going to figure it out, but we need to get you safe first, and this isn’t it. You need to be in a better place.”

If Viv had a problem with the way thart you clinged to her clothes, literally holding on for dear life, then she didn’t brign it up.

“You could have called one of us earlier you know, when you were struggling in France. You could have called me, you know I’ve been where you are, I’ve moved and hated every single part of it, we could have helped you before it had gotten this bad.”

You shook your head.

“Nobody could have helped me vivi, nothing could have helped me, I was done, I’m done.”

Viv nodded into you.

“We’ve got to get you cleaned up, and then you’ll go back to Leah’s house, and then we’ll work on fixing this, okay, Kyra’s going to be so happy to know you’re back, she’s missed you, the bloody kid hasn’t shut up about you and she only knew you for a week. Kim’s been contacting everybody, trying to figure out where you were, her little protege, she’s been hardly functioning, we all have been, you can’t just disappear on us like that, you had us all worried sick.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Really?”

Viv let go of you a bit, to get a proper look at you.

“Just because you’re forced to leave doesn’t make you any less Arsenal. You can take the girl out of arsenal but not arsenal out of the girl. No matter where you go, or what you do, you’re always going to be one of us.”

You could feel more tears beginning to form.

“I don’t know how it could have ended how it did vivi.”

You felt the Dutch take a deep breath.

“I don’t know either, but we’ve got you alright, we’ve got you now, we won’t let you leave, your staying with us forever, you took a year off of my life for everyday that you ghosted us.”

You looked down and around you, at the mostly empty vodka bottle, the blood, the scars, it all, and you didn’t know how it had all ended up like this.

“How did it all end vivi?”

Viv looked at you, just as lost as you felt.

“We’re going to figure it out.”

——————————————————————

just thought i’d end this with a little etiquette lesson for any anons xo

if you feel like dropping hate over this in my inbox… don’t.

if you feel like having a go at me for this fic… don’t.

if you feel like making personally rude arguments about me… don’t.

if you feel like having a go at for me for expressing my struggles with writing and sometimes making mistakes… don’t.

just don’t. go touch some grass, go for a run, buy a new fucking vibrator. i can guarantee you will get more pleasure from a good orgasm then dropping aimless hate in my inbox.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: in which Katsuki sees you get rid of a scrap book you planned to give him after he broke up with you

The breakup was… rough to say the least. You supposed it could have been described as a perfect mirror image to your relationship to begin with; the crushing pain of Katsuki being Katsuki.

Katsuki cracked his knuckles loudly from outside of the Heights Alliance building as he waited in the cold for you. Everyone was out doing something with the group, and Katsuki could not have been more quietly grateful. Even though he was going to rip your beating heart straight out of your body, he wanted you to maintain the dignity and pride that he had originally fallen in love with.

It wasn’t like Katsuki had woke up that morning and decided that he was going to break up with you; months of inner self-depreciation crept into his thoughts day by day, alongside the crippling realisation of his ex-victim’s strength and progress. The weight of his existence was slowly crashing around him, and he needed all of his attention for his strength.

Unfortunately, that meant cutting away dead weight.

Your happy humming could be heard as you wandered your way to your boyfriend. Your face lightened at the sight of him, before your smile drops at his scowl.

“Hi, Suki! Is everything alright?” You asked him worriedly, head tilted to the side. Katsuki’s scowl deepened, causing you to reach out to him.

“Suki please, you’re starting to worry me,” your voice rang through his ears as his hand locked around your wrist before it could reach his fluffy locks. There was a long pause as you retracted your hand, staring wildly at your boyfriend’s face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he sneered. If he was going to break your heart, he had to rip it out and shove it in the blender. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took your hand back.

“Katsuki, I-,” you were interrupted by Katsuki.

“Don’t fucking call me that either,” he grunted, shoving his hand in his pocket. Tears threatened to prick at your eyes.

“I’m breaking this thing up. It’s not worth my time at all. I’m training to be the number one hero, so I have no time to waste on other useless shit,” his gaze steeled, no ounce of insincerity to be detected. His words cut deep like a sword, your knees feeling weak as tears cling to your lashes.

“Y-you don’t mean that,” you sniffed. Katsuki let out a gruff laugh.

“Don’t I? Look, I guess it was fun when it started, but my priorities haven’t changed. You were just a distraction, something I could put my mind to. I’m not wasting any more time on you, so just leave me alone. I don’t care what you do, or who you get with. Just don’t fucking talk to me anymore, got it?”

His strength was impressive, you thought. How he could say such horrible things to you without buckling or feeling barbed wire dig into his throat. You could only stare at him with tears in your eyes, before shakily nodding. You turned at your heels and unsteadily walked off, before delving into a run back to the dorms.

Katsuki waited until you left. And he waited. And he waited. Until your sobs could no longer be heard. His body shook, before hushed hiccups and cries left his lips. His exhausted body slumped against the wall, shaky hands knuckling at his wet eyes. Well, his dirty deed was done.

Life afterwards was rough for you. After being together for 10 months, your daily routine stung in ways you didn’t know was possible. You found yourself stopping during tasks you had grown unconscious to; you had to stop texting him during the day. Even just the silly thoughts in your head couldn’t be translated in a text to him.

You could only make protein shakes for one now. Laundry loads grew lighter, snack trips became quicker and physical touch with others withdrew exponentially. For the next month, you rotted in your dorm. You ate when Mina would bring you food, her hugging you tightly and angrily grumbling about how much of a dick her friend was.

You managed to stumble to class when you didn’t oversleep the day away. Insomnia plagued you like the Black Death, tossing and turning as you tearfully mourned the relationship you lost. You arrived to class way later than your ex would, avoiding all eye contact even though you were deskmates. (You soon requested a seat change).

Aizawa had had enough when you stumbled late to his lesson for the 5th time, demanding you stay back after class. You gulped and felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassed that your teacher called you out.

The bell for the end of class sounded, bringing you out of your daze.

“(L/N), stay behind please,” came the tired drone of Mr Aizawa. Mina offered you a smile and a rub on the back as she walked off with Kirishima, throwing you a sympathetic look when she left.

Mr Aizawa cleared his throat as he signalled for you to take a seat in front of his desk. He continued marking some papers as his onyx eyes slightly looked at you.

“Your grades are slipping. You’re arriving late to class. You’re avoiding… certain classmates. If you’re struggling, I’d recommend telling me now and continuing the course. If not, pack your bags and take your grievances elsewhere. We’re training heroes, so you need to be exemplary,” he said bluntly, eyes flickering back to his paper.

You sniffled a little, rubbing your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr Aizawa. I’ll be better,” you promised dully, wiping your eyes on a tissue. His eyes looked back at you.

“I’m not an idiot. I can tell that you and Bakugou have come to some sort of disagreement. If it can get sorted, I would recommend making up as soon as possible-,” he starts.

“We broke up. He… he dumped me. He said such… horrible things to me. About me,” you whimpered, face screwed up as you clutched your uniform. Aizawa stopped writing before putting down his pen.

“I-I know I’m not exactly as composed as Todoroki, or as fast as Iida or as smart as Yaomomo, but I thought there was something about me that he liked. It just hurts how quickly he discarded me. I’m sorry for disturbing your lessons Mr Aizawa, it won’t happen again,” you quietly cried as you sunk your head in shame.

Only to lift your teary head as Mr Aizawa’s large hand encompassed your scalp. He looked at you with slight concern as you wiped your eyes.

“While it’s true that some of your classmates have advantages that you do not, a real hero doesn’t sell themselves short. Where Todoroki is composed, you’re bubbly and outgoing. Although Iida is fast, he often lacks the ability to let loose and enjoy the small things. And yes, Yaoyorozu is a prodigy student due to private schooling, but you put in the hard work and reap the rewards” his words soothed you as he softly rubbed your head.

“A real hero wouldn’t let someone who had to be chained up at the sports festival make them cry. So don’t sell yourself short. That boy has been in far too many detentions to have the nerve to point out your shortcomings,” he finished, removing his hand and gently pressing his fist into your shoulder.

“Understand me? I’ll let this incident pass if you can prove to me that you can put in the rest of the work and be a hero that everyone can put their faith in.”

The tears returned, but for a completely different reason. You quickly hugged Aizawa, his face immediately shifting into one of discomfort before gingerly patting your back. He let out his signature sly grin.

“Besides, if he tries anything, I can always say to Gang Orca that he needs more classes at the provisional licensing centre.”

You smiled at your home room teacher.

“Thank you Mr Aizawa,” you said, releasing him. He let out a small cough.

“Thank me with your actions. Tell anyone I let you hug me and it’s detention for the next month, understand?” He grilled you.

“I understand sir,” you giggled.

“Now go find Ashido, I can smell her anticipation from here,” he instructed.

“Yes sir.”

After Mr Aizawa’s curt but helpful words, you aimed on self improvement. You focused on bettering a routine, sleeping more and eating healthier. Days you would have spent rotting in bed were forced into activities with your classmates.

The breakup still stung like a knife, but it was easier to manage and slowly dwindled down to a papercut. You hadn’t talked to your ex in 2 months, only sly glances when he wasn’t looking.

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki was absolutely miserable. Seeing you rot and struggle to cope absolutely murdered him inside knowing that he was the person who ripped your heart out, and that he couldn’t stitch it back together. He managed to keep his own composure, training even harder to avoid seeing you or bumping into you.

He nearly passed out from training, he was overworking so hard. It was his own fault, he knew that. He just couldn’t work past his issues with you there; you didn’t deserve to be at the end of his shitty stick.

The pride he felt when you started cleaning yourself up and interacting more with your classmates made his chest swell. You looked so much more beautiful and radiant; the person he fell in love with.

And dumped.

“Stupid fucking Sparky, gettin’ sick and makin’ me do his chores,” Katsuki grumbled, arms overflowing with bin bags as he stumbled to the large bins. It had been 2 months since your breakup. Or, even worse; your 1 year anniversary.

His heart was absolutely wrecked, but he could now slide quick glances to you without fear of you looking at him. He was so proud that you were able to overcome his asshole behaviour, and hopefully swallow any more feelings that you had about him. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of sniffling.

He peeked his head around the corner, dropping the bin bags as quietly as he could. His eyes widened. You were stood near the incinerator, a thick book wedged in your hands.

Tears slowly trickled down your face as you looked at the book. A small smile appeared as you thumbed the cover.

“I… I thought we would have made it. I don’t know, I thought it was all going so well. I know I’ll never probably understand what was going through your head that day, but… it’s time to let go of the past,” you say quietly, rubbing your teary eyes as you open the incinerator door.

“I loved you, god fucking damnit! More than I think I could have ever loved anyone! I suppose a small part of me always will now, though. I just thought we had a better chance. Happy one year anniversary, Katsuki,” you finish as you let out a sob, throwing the book into the furnace. You ran off before checking that the book was fully inside the furnace, slamming the door and running back inside.

Katsuki waited until your steps made no noise, before running forward and pulling the book from the furnace. It was a scrapbook; the book was ridiculously chunky, with glitter glue and doodles smothering the outside, as well as stickers from your combined favourite TV shows. The furnace had charred a large chunk of the book, the smell permeating his nose.

Then he saw your names scrawled neatly in cursive. His heart started to thud as he thumbed the pages.

Polaroid photos of you on dates were plastered neatly on the pages; some photos he remembered, others he had no recollection of. Movie ticket stubs, post it notes with cute messages detailing your affections, stickers you gifted each other, silly photos from photo booths that you dragged him into.

Each page was a flash of white-hot pain. There were photos of him during a festival winning you a fish from a difficult carnival game, his eyes smoked beautifully with eyeliner as he grinned (and won the fish). He wonders if you still had it.

Another photo of his birthday party. The two of you had snuck off to your favourite spot in the woods, where he found that you had created your own picnic spot with a spread of his favourite foods. Photos of shy hand-holding, of him resting in your lap and vice versa.

Katsuki was struggling to see the paper for the tears he tried so desperately to blink away before reaching the last page. A whole page was filled with your writing, and Katsuki had to knuckle his eyes to read it.

Dearest Katsuki,

Wow, a year already! I’m so happy that we’ve come so far, my love. I’m so indebted to you for everything that you’ve done for me; helped me with training, putting up with me, hell even just being there for me.

I know I’m not exactly the easiest to get along with, I know I’m easily excitable and not exactly quiet. I love and appreciate that you can listen to me and not get bored, just as I do with you.

Training to be a hero is hard work, so I’m so thankful that you’ve chosen to take your journey with me, even though you’re training so hard to become number one.

I love you more than words can ever describe; you’re the reason I wake up everyday. I adore you, and I hope we can have many more years together kicking ass and beating Deku >o<

Lots and lots and lots of love,

Your (N/N)

Katsuki couldn’t stop the tears that trickled down his face. Reading your words of quiet insecurity, thanking him for things that he threw right back into your face like you were nothing made his heart ache so badly.

He clutched the scrapbook to his chest tightly, sending silent but desperate apologies to you as his head sunk to the floor. Guttural cries escaped him as his choices swirled through his head. The scrapbook’s cover buckled due to the force of his grip as he sobbed his heart out.

Months of self deprecation caught up to him as he craved your touch; he wanted you to hear him, to turn around and hold him tightly to your chest and never ever let go ever again. He needed your sweet affirmations as you played with his hair; “my number one hero,” you would croon as you hugged your tired boyfriend.

His stupid pride got in his way once again, and he finally came to the one conclusion he should have met those 2 fateful months ago.

He couldn’t do this without you.

The trip back to Heights Alliance was a painful one, but Mina hugged away your issues as soon as she saw your misty orbs.

“I’m so proud of you for doing this bestie. You deserve so much better. It’s time to let go of the past,” she told you softly, pink hair tickling your face. You smiled at your best friend.

“Thank you for everything Mina, I really mean it,” you sniffle, wiping your nose and taking a deep breath. You let go of your friend as you smiled at her.

“I think I’m gonna go for a nap, training was super rough today,” you told her, squeezing her hand as she squeezes back.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything. Sleep well, and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready,” Mina promised, giving you one last hug.

You gave her a wan smile as you walked to your dorm room, throwing a pained look at your exes room. You shook your head as you unlocked the door and got changed into some comfy clothes. Tired bones sunk onto your bed as you let out a sigh.

“It’s time to let go of the past,” you murmur as you fell asleep. As soon as you were about to beat Shigaraki to a pulp, a loud knocking on your door pulled you from your dream.

The knocking was quiet at first, then grew louder, more desperate. You thought it was Mina, and that you had skipped dinner.

You let out a tired laugh, getting out of bed and redoing your hair.

“Okay, okay Mina, I’m coming-“ your voice was cut short as you opened the door, seeing a disgruntled ex staring at the floor.

Clutched tightly in his hand was the scrapbook, as you looked on in shock. How did he get it?! He wasn’t there when you- oh fuck.

Katsuki raised his head, volcanic eyes plagued with tears as he wildly searched your face. He gingerly reached for your hand before sinking to his knees, placing your hand on his face.

“P-please take me back. I know I was a dick, but I’m willing to show you all of my vulnerabilities. Please baby,” he raised his head again.

“I can’t live without you.”

[xannsin]

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warning: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Hardcore sex, Praise, Creampie

Précis: He’s an overprotective ‘best friend’.

A/N: this is my first write, bare with me lol, also major credits to @cherryredstars for inspiring me, thank u :)

Edits & Look-overs: 2

It’s 3am.

You’re walking back to your college dormitory building, exhausted from a night out. Your feet hurt, you have a slight wobble in your walk, and your lungs feel like they burn with every step you take due to the cold air. A misty cloud fleets from your mouth with every exhale.

You left without Miguel’s knowledge. Which, to him, is a big no-no. He isn’t possessive over you, per se, but he does like to know when you leave the dorm you two share together. That’s all he asks for, and you didn’t even do that. He’s been protective over you your whole friendship with him. It pisses you off sometimes but you can’t help but wonder why he is the way he is with you. You mulled over how he’d always hold you close whenever you two went out, like he was trying to show off this imaginary ownership over you, and when he’d give guys death stares at their attempts to flirt with you. That was the least he did — there was a long list of his overprotective ways with you, but those are just the ones you thought about mostly.

When you finally get to your dorm, you unlock the door with your key before quietly opening the door. Thankfully it wasn’t a squeaky door, the faintest squeak of the door or a creak of a floorboard would probably wake Miguel up. He was a really light sleeper. You close the door behind you and lock it before turning around and seeing Miguel sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, his laptop on his lap as he types away, not even looking at you. You freeze up, staring at him with wide eyes. “Miguel? Why are you up so late?” you ask, holding your breath as you wait for his answer. “I could ask you the same thing.” he replies, his husky voice making you exhale nervously.

“Well… I was out,” you mutter, “I didn’t want to wake you just to tell you so I-”

“Don’t.” he interrupts, “just don’t. You didn’t wake me up and tell me because you didn’t want me to know. Look, you’re my best friend and I worry about you. I worry about what could happen to you when you’re out of my sight. I feel responsible for your well-being, and all I ask of you is to just let me know where you’re going, and you can’t even do that, mm? Do you know how worried I was, huh? Huh?!” he exclaims, his voice getting louder as he spoke. You stay silent for a few minutes before sighing, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry, I just… I-” you’re cut off again by his booming voice, “No, you’re not fucking sorry! Carajo!”

There’s a long pause. You’re a little shaken up, he’s never yelled at you before. “Where were you?” he finally asked, closing his laptop and setting it down before finally looking at you with slightly tired eyes. “I was out clubbing.” you say. He groans at your words, pinching his temple. “With?” he asks shortly after. “I was alone…” you say quietly, causing him to open his eyes. He stands up and walks over to you, his 6’9" frame towering over you. He barely keeps a distance between you and him.

“Listen to me and listen well,” he grunts, grabbing your arm, “I don’t know if you’re too dull to understand this but if something ever happens to you I couldn’t possibly live after that. You may think I’m being overdramatic, and while I’m not disagreeing with you, it’s for a reason, Y/N.” He sighs, staring at you with those piercing crimson red eyes.

“You understand the danger of going out alone, right? I wouldn’t have to be like this if people weren’t horrible, but Y/N, you don’t understand how easily you can get snatched up, hurt, killed, and so on. Especially at night, where sickos like that lurk every street corner and alleyway. I’ve lived through it. You haven’t. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol that makes you so unaware when you’re walking home, but whatever it is, it’s pissing me off.”

You pause for a minute as he gives his big spiel. “How’d you know I was drinking?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Are you serious? You have a wobble in your walk. Either your feet hurt and you’re drunk or it’s a mix of both, your breath reeks of alcohol, and you’re slightly slurring. If you were trying to hide it then that’s… that’s just sad.” Miguel sighs. “I’m glad you’re safe, I really am, but can’t you acknowledge what I’m saying?”

“I… I-I just…” you trail off, sniffling. You try to retract your arm from his grasp but his hand is clenched around your arm. “You just what?” Miguel asks. “I just don’t understand why you care about me so much!” you finally exclaim. After a moment of silence, he’s finally had enough. He tugs you by the arm, “Let’s go.” You’re fucked. Probably in many other ways than metaphorically. He drags you to his room, slamming the door open and pushing you in. He shuts the door behind him and locks it before grabbing you and setting you on the bed, slipping his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to be sensual, passionate, gentle sex.

He climbs in bed and gets on top of you, staring at you. Your breath was hitched, your eyes were wide. He rolls his eyes before looking down and beginning to unbutton your shirt. It was agonizingly slow, like he wanted to build up your anticipation. “I guess I have to show you how much I care about you since you can’t understand.” Miguel says, getting to the last few buttons. You squirmed slightly, not saying anything back other than an ‘I’m sorry’ under your breath. Miguel just shook his head gently, unbuttoning the last button.

He slipped your pretty blouse off and tossed it to the side. He leaned down more, his mouth hovering over your lips. He finally leaned in just a bit more, enough for your lips to barely touch. But he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction. He just gently grazed his teeth over your lip before trailing his lips down to your neck, where they’d actually settle. His tongue poked out of his lips to graze it over your neck.

He reached his arm up, his large hand going behind your neck and grabbing a fistful of hair to keep you in place as he licked and sucked your neck. He eventually started leaving carmine red hickeys all over your neck. You whined and whimpered under him, all you could really do. He was in tune with your body. Your sensitive spots, what your body responded to, what it didn’t. He knew you.

He pulled back to gauge your expression. You were all hot and bothered, your breaths coming in and out in little huffs. The edges of his lips slightly curled up in a devilish smirk. His thumb rubbed your bottom lip. That ‘tender’ moment didn’t last long until he went back to work. He leaned down and continued kissing and marking you all over, his kisses trailing down your body and leaving spots of saliva in their wake. When he reached the hem of your jeans, he began unbuttoning them.

Once that was done, he pulled them off in one strong tug and tossed them onto the floor behind him. One more obstacle — your panties. He kissed your inner thighs, rubbing your wetness through your panties. He could practically feel your sex pulsing in your panties. He ran his fingers over the black laced hem before slipped them off and tossing them to the side. There it was, what he was looking for. “So wet already.” Miguel mumbled as he began unbuttoning his jeans and tugging them off. He grabs the hem of his boxers and slips those off too, tossing the fabric to the side. Your eyes widen at his length, and you try to push yourself away from him. Miguel tuts in annoyance, grabbing your thigh and roughly pulling you back under him, where you were before. You whine when he slaps his heavy cock against your cunt. You freeze under him, finally learning that squirming gets you nowhere.

He positions himself over you, and you struggled a little bit more. “M-Miguel, it’s been a while since I’ve done this, I’m not-”

“Shh,” Miguel interrupts, patting your cheek a little roughly, “no need to talk. You’ll be fine.” You stay silent but you’re breathing heavily through your nose as you feel Miguel reach down and stroke his tip along your folds. “I’m sure you can take me.” he says, his tone nothing close to passionate. His voice was husky and rough. He stopped teasing you with his tip once he felt your entrance before sinking into you with one push. It was slow and painful, but then it dissipated as he began moving his hips. The pace itself didn’t start off slow or soft, he immediately dove into hammering into you.

You cried out, throwing your head back onto the pillow as his shaft slid in and out of your wet sex. You closed your eyes and panted, but you flinched as you felt Miguel’s hand tightly gripping your chin. “Look at me. Mírame.” he says as he pounds into you. You let out a whine in response as your glassy eyes looked into his. He curses under his breath, holding your waist so you stay in place with one hand, and holding himself up with the other. You never knew dick felt this amazing.

You were feeling this way and he was only a little over halfway in. He was making his way deeper, and you felt it. You went to hold his hand, and he took his hand in yours, your fingers intertwining. Your mouth slightly fell agape and you let out a choked out moan as he bottomed out inside you, his balls nestling tightly against your ass. He fucks the noise out of you, you can’t do anything but let out choked out moans. “Lift your hips for me.” Miguel says, wanting better leverage to your pussy. You weakly lift your hips and he grabs ahold of them, sitting up just a tad to fuck you better. His balls repeatedly slap against your ass with every thrust, fucking a pathetic noise out of you every once in a while. Your boobs moved up and down with the movement, and the headboard squeaked as your body hit it.

“So beautiful…” Miguel murmured, taking one of your boobs in his hand and resting it there, his grip tight on your titty.

You were slightly lightheaded on dick. Creamy little clap noises mixed with Miguel’s grunts and your little noises filled the room. Your seeping juices coat Miguel’s cock with every in-and-out motion his shaft does into you, leaving his cock slicked and with a shiny little coat on it from you.

He was like a machine, his stamina was incredible because he showed no signs of slowing down just yet. “Who’s my good girl, hm? Had a bit of a scare tonight, didn’t we?” he says, hoisting your knees up on his shoulders so he had more leverage. He reaches down and toys with your clit, rubbing his thumb in circular motions on your nub. You whine at the double stimulation. You don’t know if you can take much longer of this before climax slowly comes knocking. Miguel struggled to hold off his climax the more your walls pulsated and tightened around his throbbing cock.

But it didn’t end there. He pulled out of you suddenly, flipping you onto your back roughly and getting behind you. You didn’t even have enough time to react. “Keep that back arched baby.” Miguel says, placing his hand on your back to keep your arch in that position. He uses his other hand to guide himself back in your dripping cunt again, continuing his rough pace. His strokes were deep, fast, and most importantly, calculated. You nuzzled your face in the pillow, and Miguel grinned slightly your muffled screams of pleasure, his lips curving upward.

“Such a good girl… you take me so well…” he breathed out, catching your hand as you swung it back to hold his. “Give me your other hand.” Miguel said, getting both hands and holding them by your wrists as he continued to fuck you roughly. Your upper half bounced slightly upward with every thrust because your arms were being pulled back. “M-Mig.. Mig…” you choke out, whining as his balls smack against your clit. “Qué te pasa, mami? Hm?” he asked rhetorically, his shaft sliding in and out of you with ease. He was getting so close.

He let go of your hands, your hands plopping back at your sides. He had a new fixation — your ass. He grabs both of your ass cheeks in his large hands, groping them and pulling them more towards him, meeting you halfway with his thrusts. With a few more of… doing that, his warm cum eventually shot inside of you.

The two of you moan loudly as you climax at the same time, your juices seeping onto his cock. He pulled out, leaving a trail of warm cum on the sheets, and it seeped out of you. He creampied you. Your best friend gave you a creampie.

“Come here. Fuck, come here.” Miguel pants, pulling you close to him. He wraps his arms around you from behind, both of you collapsing on the sheets.

“So, tell me,” he starts, “still think I don’t care about you?”

You inhaled and exhaled heavily before responding, “I do, I just knew if I said ‘I don’t understand why you care about me so much’ this would be the outcome.” you smirked, rolling over to face him. He froze.

“What?”

[running-with-kn1ves]

Drunken Stupor

A/N: this is based off of that drunken yan gangster idea that I couldn't get out of my head. I might rewrite it or do it differently but this is 4 u my 1 gangster lovin' anon for now!

OG Yandere Gangster Drabble (nsft) w/ da Yan Gangster Ramble

TW: kidnapping, drunken yandere, noncon kissing (no nsft), threats, toxic behavior, 

Puzzles, accompanied by whatever news channel you could get through. Paint-by-number pictures, and shitty DVD’s from another time. Horribly thin sheets and an aching back--- you were completely, utterly, and seemingly irrevocably, isolated. The tight handcuffs around your feet only allowed you to hop around the house, barely making it to the front door before you tripped over the rug and nosedived into the cold, black floor. 

How long has it been? When was the last time you felt the spring wind on your face? You weren’t even allowed to open the windows, out of your captors fear of you screaming for help, even with him right next to you. He gave you countless things to keep yourself entertained, whether they be knitting grandma-like sweaters or taking up a different artistic hobby, anything that could keep you in one spot for long without the need to move or the option to hurt yourself. 

You were tempted to scream, to throw your half-finished puzzle at the wall and destroy the nice room set up for you that once belonged to the lone bachelor-- who, was much later than usual tonight. Your throat was too sore to keep up with the screaming however, and you pushed it to the back of your mind to try again tomorrow. If he came home all of a sudden and found you screaming at the ripe hour of 11 PM, he might do more than just threaten with one of his switchblades. 

You hated being around the bastard, feeling so terrified and weak like maybe today would finally be your last-- but at this point, you were going insane being by yourself for so long. Even a nice screaming match with him until your voice finally left you would more desirable than watching another 80s thriller that would haunt your dreams, alone. For someone who wasn’t home very often, he certainly had an extensive collection of old gangster movies, romcoms too even. But you couldn’t put Sixteen Candles on again without wanting to rip your eyes out-- not even one of his five million copies of The Godfather. Who needs that many copies of the same movie?

Your exhausted, beaten-down brain jolted at the sound of someone jerking at the door handle. The door practically thumped with the lock against the wall, dust raining as it was violently ripped back and forth. But then came the familiar jangle of an overloaded key ring, one you had heard most nights for what you can only assume has been the past month. 

Finally, your spiked anxiety crashed when you saw those familiar, much-too-shiny-for-a-gangster-to-be-wearing black leather shoes thump inside. You peaked your head out from your sitting position near the opened bedroom door, trying to get a glimpse without getting up and alerting him of your presence. It was inevitable for him to come to you, his kidnapee, but you tried to postpone the smothering for as long as possible. Maybe now was the time to chuck that puzzle. 

“You reallyyy gotta hold *hic* on mee…”

Mismatched footsteps trudged, stopping first to hit the corner of what you could only assume was the livingroom loveseat.

“Move outa ma way, couch! ..Even though you… treeat me *hic* badlyy..”

You heard the raking of fingernails on the couch cushions, the clink of a bottle rolling on the ground back and forth. You didn’t dare look back through the door crack. Maybe you should shut it? Lord knows what that would cause him to do, though. 

“You still gotts’a hold on me…” 

The sing-songy voice came closer, belonging to the madman you dreaded the return of. Within the crack of the door you saw a dark silhouette, the TV casting a face-shadowing glow that made you just an inch more terrified. 

“Hey, baby…” He hiccuped. 

“Well that’s new,” You started, looking away from him back to your puzzle. “When did I become your ‘baby’?” 

He moaned thoughtfully, thinking about your rhetorical question. “After you kidnapped me, I suppose?”

Maybe it was wrong to poke the beast, especially because he smelled like dirty whiskey and had three buttons too loose on his dress shirt, showing a deep scar betwixt his faint chest hair. A vulnerable image he’d never let you witness soberly. 

“Hrmmm….” He pushed his entire weight on the door, letting it creak open as he looked at you with a smile. 

“I dunno…maybe.” He laughed a little, giving a small snort like a schoolboy hearing his first nasty joke. 

You rolled your eyes. Damn, as if you weren’t on edge before, now you were going to have to deal with the equivalent of a murderous toddler who’s been threatening to hurt you ever since you were first brought here. Drunken fools were best left at the bar. 

But your icy demeanor didn’t sway his unsettingly good mood, the gangster opening the door all the way to flop onto your (unwillingly) shared bed. He dug his face into the sheets that smelled like you, looking at the back of your head that was pressed against the edge of the mattress.

“Was thinkin’ bout’cha…” He murmurs, tugging at a strand of your hair from behind. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ to the boys, ‘bout how pretty you are..” 

The short yanks at your hair to get your attention were becoming annoying, though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of glaring face-to-face. 

“Told em’ how nice you look when yer sleepin’, when ya brush ya teeth, sayin’ that they’re not allowed to have ya....”

You hummed in response, trying to bend away to get closer to your puzzle. But you could sense the bubbling in your stomach, could feel that something was coming. Whether it’d be a bunch of slobbered kisses or your early demise, you couldn’t tell. 

“Oh really?” You asked, knowing he’d been adamant on not saying a word or letting make a peep about your existence in his gang-funded condo. 

“Yah, I did. Don’t believe me? Said i’d cut their fingers off, like boss does when some’n fucks up. I’d slam into em, make em watch while I...” 

He went quiet, and you thanked whatever made him. Whatever he said, you didn’t want to know; you’d already had enough of an unwilling look into his violent thoughts. 

“Well, doesn’t matter now, right... ‘cause now I gots’ya here. Mmph,” You hear him kick his shoes off, his face coming up to bury in your hair. “Smellin’ so good, lookin’ so nice fr’ me… wanting you so bad.” 

The sound of him inhaling you, his nose pressed to your neck as he shimmies his head deeper against you like a cat is uncomfortably warm. You feel two hands creep up, looking for your shoulders to push you back and make you more accessible. 

The gangster wasn’t normally so affectionate, so quiet and simple when he spoke. You were waiting for it to be replaced by his normal, angrily resentful behavior, the type that’d pull you by the hair to kiss you, that’d rant about the idiots he’d had to deal with for the day at you. But maybe, just maybe, you were in the clear for now?

“You’re acting weird,” You try to jerk away. “I’m not in the mood to entertain you, okay? Just, let me do my puzzle in peace. Go take a shower or something.”

He’s quick to respond, wrapping veiny arms around your shoulders and dangerously close to your neck. 

“Nuh huh, not unless yer comin’ with me, wanna show how much I loove you,” His head pops up closer to yours, the stressed crinkles under his eyes making him look older. “Cuz’ baby, you reallyy gotta hold on mee..” 

“Stop stop stop.” You couldn’t take the second-hand embarassment of listening him to try to sing again, horribly off key and far too confident in each drawn out word. “What do I have to do to stop you from singing again?”

“I can’t hold it in though. Love’s too strong for you, love.” His disheveled hair, once slicked back in an oily black, now strewn about across his forehead as it nearly covers his eyebrows. He presses his forehead towards you. “Lemme kiss. Told the boys you give the best kisses, lemme prove it..”

“Prove what-- they’re not even here!” You try to go under his arm-barricade, only to be stopped as he practically puts his full weight forward, dragging him with you each time you move. 

“Lovin’ you for so long, jusst a kiss, just one kith..” He reaches for your cheek with his lips, ignoring how you whip your head around in retaliation.

“No, no! You stink like a bar and ciggarettes, get off me.”

He grunts in frustration, biting down on his lower lip as his dark, full eyebrows furrow together. 

“Let me kiss or i’ll.. I’ll gut you like a fish, my lovely..” 

You stopped at that, looking out of the corner of your eye to his pink-tinted cheeks and strong neck that sweated at the sight of you. 

He puts a ringed knuckle to your cheek, huffing as his eyes go half-lidded. His suit was all wrinkled from rolling around on the bed, dirty with the day’s work and bar-stench as he forced you back against the end of the mattress. 

“C’mon, don’t make me say stuff like that just for a kiss…” He whined, scooting closer. “Maybe I’ll start singing again, y’knoww, if y’don’t come close.” 

“Please just… don’t hurt me.” You mumbled, trying to avoid that blank, dark look he often held that came crawling back a moment ago. You didn’t want that sober side right now; this was somehow easier to handle, even if it meant losing your dignity. 

“Don’t wanna, never will,” He hums, staring unbothered at your lips, as if he wasn’t holding you tight enough to suffocate. “S’just kiss me, need it bad..” 

You looked around, as if there was anyone else looking, trying to avoid the task that made you shiver inside. 

But you didn’t get a chance to reject the drunken gangster again, his wet lips coming against the side of your face. He poked the tip of his tongue out, flicking against your lip before going tongue-first into your surprised mouth. 

Anytime he had tried to kiss you, to do anything overtly intimate, the most he released was the silent huffs of a man too wrapped up in himself to let you hear anything of pleasure. But now, you witnessed the lewd shlops of his lips against yours, the neediness of the back of his throat, groaning to be deeper inside of you. 

One of his heavy hands cradled the back of your head, his stupor not caring (or rather, not noticing) how little you moved, how you seemed to be backing into his large palm that massaged your hair. 

“Loved’ya forever, so happy you were so stupid…” He mumbles between licks to the corner of your lip, diving back into the sticky warmth of you. “What kinda�� mph, idiot, doesn’t..hugh, report to the police..?” 

With his arm once wrapped around you, the gangster takes your limp wrist to his collar, bringing it to hold his loose tie. He makes you drag him closer, guiding your slow and frowning lips in his one-sided makeout session. 

“Not’ma fault, making your life so much better now.. N’now, you’re mine.” He grins, a stupid little grin from the alcohol and delusion swarming his head as he consumes you, fingers coming to fiddle with your cotton T-shirt as he draws lines down your chest. “My sweet sunshine, all mine, forever n’ ever.” 

[saddestsquid]

The Red Means I Love You ❤︎

Summary: Jason Todd x fem!Reader. You and Jason used to date before you left to stay with the Titans. You both miss each other more than you’d like to admit, but stay out of contact. Fast forward to after he died, you encounter Redhood. Old feeling stir, and before you know it you’re bent over the motorcycle of someone you swore you’d leave in the past.

Warnings: Angst -> smut, 18+, p in v, unprotected s$x, mentions of death & terrorism.

A/N: This takes place right after s3ep2, right after they find out Redhood’s identity :3

You didn’t fully know what was happening; just that there were too many hostages in the building—all who would be killed if not evacuated immediately. You were about to run and help the rest of the titans get everyone as far away as possible before Kory pulled you aside.

You went to protest before she quickly interrupted you, “Go search for Jason.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Uhm, what?”

“Look, I have a feeling he’ll listen to you better than anyone.” she said. “Jasons not someone who can be brought down by force. Shit, he came back from the fucking dead, you think he’s gonna let us beat this new…phase out of him?” 

You wanted to argue, but Kory wasn’t someone who was wrong often. She had a good point, and you knew you had to follow it.

“We’ve got this under control,” she assured, resting a reassuring but firm hand on your shoulder. “Go.”

You were skeptical, especially when you could see Gar in the distance shaking in his boots trying to convince an old lady to let him help her down the steps, and citizens clearly getting whiplash from Connor moving them to safety too fast. Your team was…definitely something, but with some hesitance you finally turned and ran in the direction of the one member you wanted to see.

…

“Jason!” You called out, your voice echoing through the barren alley. Gotham was creepy enough already without walking in some sketchy, busted up route in the pitch dark.

You kept calling but the only response you got was your own voice echoing back to you. You tried to scratch your mind for something to say that could persuade him, but you came up blank. Guilt ate at your conscience when you remembered that you hadn’t spoken to him for months before he died. 

To be honest, Jason never had anyone in his life to begin with. He told you that along with all his other secrets, and you still broke his heart. 

You stayed with the titans, thinking he was being naive for not wanting to. You didn’t think about the fact they never once tried to help him, or ever see him as more than an immature kid. They didn’t have the energy to help Jason through his issues so they just abandoned ship, sending him right back to Bruce and his horrible coping mechanisms.

As much as you wanted to be angry at Dick, or Kory or really anyone else for letting that happen, you had to face that you played your part.

Jason Todd died alone. He died feeling like no one would miss him, like he was a failure of a Robin and a failure of a titan. Because even after everything, all he wanted to do was prove himself.

So, yeah. Admittedly the first words you chose to say were not a good idea. Probably should’ve seen that one coming, but you never were too good at comforting him. was anyone?

“It didn’t have to be like this, you can still come back to the titans!” You tried to coax him, almost immediately regretting it. You quickly shut your mouth, tho the damage was already done. You just prayed he wasn’t here—he didn’t need to be provoked into blowing your brains out. 

Only when your muscles stopped tensing and you thought you got lucky, a voice you couldn’t even recognize rumbled above you. It shot ice up your veins and you would’ve frozen in place if you weren’t so adiment on seeing him again.

“Still taking about the titans? Why am I surprised.” He taunted, tilting his head in a gesture so familiar it made your heart ache. When you spun around you were met with someone you couldn’t believe was really Jason. He was standing on some rusted fire escape, a steel red mask boring right through you. 

You tensed, but not out of fear. No, you could never be scared of Jason, not the same nerd who woke up early to make you breakfast or who secretly wore reading glasses. 

You debated messaging him for months after your breakup, paragraphs on paragraphs you never sent. You had so much to say to him before, so why now did your mind go blank?

It was hard to see what he was feeling with the mask, but you could tell he was expecting a snarky remark back. When you just stood there dumbfounded, he sighed. “Look, I’m done trying to prove myself to them. To Bruce, to everyone! I don’t have to be some fucking nobody y/n, and neither do you.”

Now that made you snap out of whatever trance you were in. “‘and neither do you’? What are you trying to do, advertise me the life of crime?”

He groaned, “I don’t know why I ever tried with you. The titans are just a bunch of fucked up people acting like one big happy family, is that what you wanted? Are you happy you made that choice?” He sneered.

There was malice in his tone, but it wasn’t real. he didn’t feel angry anymore, just betrayed.

He would’ve splayed his heart out for you on a silver platter if you asked, just for you to turn your back on him. You followed him in his dreams, haunted him every time he smelt a familiar perfume, even appeared behind his shut eyelids while the life drained out of him. You were a part of him, and from what he knew you’d never looked back when you stormed out that day.

That’s why it shocked him when tears started to well in your eyes. God, your eyes—the ones he would subconsciously buy clothes of in the same colour. “You could’ve came with me,” you whispered. 

Your meek tone broke something in him. His shoulders relaxed and in a blink he leaped down, knees bending upon landing on the hard ground in front of you. Seeing him like this; the mask concealing his identity, various weapons strapped to his thighs and seemingly more toned than the last time you saw him—you could understand why everyone was on edge.

He stood there motionless, a silent and intimidating presence before you. You both stood there in unbearable silence until finally, he lifted his mask off.

His features were lit beautifully by the dim street light, eyes glinting ever so slightly. He looked exhausted—more troubled now, but you knew, despite everything, this was Jason. Your Jason, not who he was manipulated into.

“No, I couldn’t have.” he muttered begrudgingly, “they made that very clear.”

“So what, you just become a terrorist? Is that your idea of solving your problems?”

His fists clenched in barely concealed anger. “Bruce couldn’t save Gotham, so he abandoned it. I’ll be the one to fix it.” 

“By running around in a new suit and planting bombs everywhere? Real great strategy.” You rolled your eyes, but started to blush when you stared at him too long in the plated suit that fit him perfectly. You quickly caught yourself ogling and looked away, assuming he wouldn’t catch the red tinge on your face. 

You don’t know how you ever thought he wouldn’t notice. Of course he noticed, it’s Jason Todd.

For fucks sake, the guy noticed every detail about you. The way you’d avoid eye contact when nervous, the pace of your blinking quickening when you were lost in thought, the slight heighten of your voice when you were excited about something. All these tiny things and you thought he just wouldn’t notice the way you eyed him down all red in the face?

Come on, you were basically writing your true feelings out to him in big, bold… ..red letters…

and it’s not like Kory ever specified exactly what to do once you found him… .. .

So that’s how you ended up bent against his motorcycle in some busted up alleyway, pussy spread open on his dick.

You gasped and clawed pointlessly at his covered back; nails clinking uselessly against the metal armour of his suit. 

Your own suit was pulled off just enough to get access to your cunt, panties pulled to the side so he could plunge his thick cock into you.

He was groaning more than he used to, and you could swear you even heard him whine. His pace was ruthless, thrusts messy but coordinated. He kept trying to push further inside you, pressing his body as close to you as possible like you would vanish at any moment. 

“Fuckfuckfuck-“ he rambled. Death heightened all of his senses—made things have so much more of an impact on him. Maybe he just missed you too much, or maybe he let himself forget how good you feel.

To be fair, you were far worse off than him. You would’ve alerted everyone in Gotham if he wasn’t covering your mouth with a gloved hand, though it’s not like anyone here would bat an eye to screaming.

“My poor baby just been lonely, s’that it?”He teased, manhandling you by your hips to meet his harsh thrusts. 

“Nobody to fill up this pretty hole like I do, such a shame,” he pouted in faux sympathy, as if he wasn’t balls deep at the moment.

“I’m back now. Fuck the titans, I’ve always treated you better, haven’t I?” He’s fucking your ability to form coherent words right out of your throat, but he knows your answer when you squeeze around him.

“Jay!” you moaned into his palm. Your cunt was squelching embarrassingly loud with each thrust, thighs shaking so hard you for sure would’ve fallen over if he wasn’t holding you up. Every drag of his cock in you hit the perfect spots, just like he remembered you love.

“You don’t even care that I’m red hood, do you?” he asked, his tone full of confidence. “Nah, you don’t. So fucking wet, does my suit get you off princess?” 

He moved his hand to play with your clit, getting it soaked with your fluids. You were too cock-drunk to lie bite back, just nodding desperately and mewling out something akin to a yes.

He smirked. “Pussys sucking me in the same too, fuck- I missed this. I missed you.”

He acted cocky when he was fucking you like this because it’s the only way he was sure you even wanted to be around him. Not much to complain about when his big dick is ravaging you, no?

Deep down he always felt right at home with you. He wouldn’t admit it, but he would give up red hood for you. He’d give up anything for you, actually. Nothing mattered as long as you were with him. And he wasn’t letting you go this time.

With the ministrations on your clit and him pounding into you, it wasn’t a surprise when that knot in your stomach came undone quickly. Especially not with how many failed orgasms you had with your fingers, pretending it was him.

Ever attentive, he noticed immediately. “You gonna come, baby? Try not to get any on the new suit.” He winked, as if you were gonna squirt for him. (You have, many times.)

The cherry on top was when he unexpectedly flipped his mask back down and leaned in to whisper right into your ear with that deep voice, “come for me”

And you were gone. You came with a cry of his name, eyes rolling back and toes curling. Your pussy gushed all over his dick, forming a white ring around it that you could see every time he slammed his hips.

Seeing your pretty face so euphoric was what sent him over the edge, and grudgingly he pulled out, pearly white cum shooting all over your stomach.

You spent a minute regaining your breath while he pressed gentle kisses all over your throat. He only let up when you whined at the slight pain of the pressure on your newly forming hickeys. He tucked himself back into his pants and re-adjusted his belt. You were wondering if he planned on just leaving until he took his coat off and wrapped it around you.

He moved you so you were set down properly on the back of his motorcycle and then stepped on. You instinctively laid against his back, resting your head on his shoulder and he admired you with pure adoration.

“Wrap your arms around me babe,” he hummed, affectionately rubbing your thigh that was pressed to his.

When your brain finally caught up to what was happening you gave him a confused look.“Wha- wait! Where are we going?” 

He looked at you like you were crazy for even questioning it. “Home,” he laughed, “what? Did you think death was gonna do us part, baby?”

[samcarter34]

Since people seem to once again be having trouble remembering the order of operations, let me just remind everyone:

The ability Laudna possesses to feed Delilah is Hunger of the Shadow. In the fight with Bor’dor, Laudna used that BEFORE Orym’s head nod. Bor’dor attacked them and her response was to do the thing she knew would give power to Delilah. Matt even makes the sound of Delilah’s heartbeat.

The spell she used after the head nod? Whither and Bloom. The same spell she later attacked Orym with, which isn’t even a warlock spell.

And speaking of the head nod, you want to know what’s it’s prefaced with? ‘Laudna you can do whatever you want.’ And Marisha responds by saying that Laudna is ‘barely present’ because she’s having ptsd flashbacks to all of the times something horrible happened to her and she couldn’t do anything about it. So she kills Bor’dor because it makes her feel in control of the situation.

And yeah, the 4SD where Liam says Orym thought Delilah might come back. Except y’all somehow took that and made it seem like he’s the one who shoved Laudna over the edge when what actually happened is that Laudna flung herself off it because betrayal is triggering to her.

And the sword. The sword which apparently wasn’t triggering enough that Imogen contemplating whether the Vanguard were good guys didn’t cause any reaction. Or for that matter, make her object to Ashton’s ‘this is permission statement.’ But she saw Orym wearing it, got uncomfortable and then all it took was one sentence from Delilah for her to decide to steal it. Delilah, who mutilated her, murdered her, has been possessing her for decades, and who basically held her soul hostage when BH wanted VM to resurrect Laudna. But what Delilah didn’t do? Tell Laudna to steal the sword.

I wasn’t around for campaign 1, but in campaign 2 I definitely noticed a trend that people who were all ‘I love women! Female characters rock!’ would, the second one of their alleged faves did something controversial (or just something they didn’t like) would find a way to shift the onus onto someone else so she could remain blameless. And that is definitely continuing this campaign, and if anything is getting worse (which, not to get into speculation, but I wonder if it’s because all of the female characters this go round are more traditionally feminine than last campaign.)

I think the reason Orym’s been getting raked across the coals so hard by certain parts of the fandom is actually because of this. Because Imogen’s repeatedly gone ‘what if the Vanguard have a point’ and Laudna agrees with everything she says, whereas Orym’s been pretty consistently ‘no, the murder cult that murdered my family are bad guys.’ And well, can’t go around admitting that our faves did something wrong.’

And so we have a situation where Laudna attacks Orym, but somehow that’s Orym’s fault because the possibility of Laudna doing something wrong ruins people’s lesbian cottegecore fantasy. But the thing is, that whole thing was all Laudna. She chose to listen to her first murderer when Delilah said ‘maybe it’s cursed’ and then she chose to blanket the room in magical darkness (sorcerer ability, not warlock) chose to cast an area of effect spell to destroy the thing Orym was using to sheath the sword (sorcerer spell, not warlock) and, upon hurting Orym, chose not to drop said darkness, which meant Orym couldn’t see who attacked him. And when she got caught, she tried to downplay what she did, tried to say that because she didn’t mean to hurt him it didn’t count, refused to apologize for actually hurting him, kept shifting her argument (and even low key got called out on it by Imogen when she asked Laudna why she’s want its power inside her if she thinks it’s so evil.)

There is an alternate universe where Laudna wakes Orym up and they have what probably would have been an intense discussion about the sword (and that might even have been what Marisha was aiming for before Delilah got involved) and THAT truly would have been the ‘both sides are equally right’ scenario, but that’s not what we got. And you can say Orym shouldn’t have taken the sword unilaterally (but somehow Laudna’s allowed to unilaterally steal and absorb it?) or that she’s being manipulated by Delilah, but the fact is that Laudna’s an adult and is responsible for her own decisions. Yes, Delilah is a powerful and malign presence that they all downplayed/ignored, but, to use Marisha’s addiction metaphor, making amends with those you’ve harmed is a part of recovery for a reason. Because ultimately, you are the one who did that. Yes, it does immensely suck for Laudna that she���s been handed the cards she has been, but it’s up to her to make the best play she can.

Wow this got long, but my overall point is that Laudna is a character with her own agency and makes her own decisions (well, Marisha makes them, but at this point y’all should know she’s not conflict averse and is willing to have her characters make controversial character choices). And really, take all that away, what’s left? How much onus can you take from a character before you might as well go look at a painting?

[e-nonsense]

─── 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩

pairing. prince!jason todd x witch!reader

summary. royal au. bruce doesn’t approve of his son’s relationship with constantine’s pupil/ward , not that jason cares

warnings. pet names: little pet, darling. Tooth rotting fluff i guess?

a/n. fuck writers block. three fits in less than 12 hours? crazy. might make this an au, so feel free to send requests based on this au to find out more

wc. 1.1k not proofread

Jason rolled his eyes as another young woman walked away from him, throughly offended. This had been one of Bruce’s many attempts to find his so a suitable woman— one that wasn’t you.

After Dick had married Princess Koriand'r and left to live with her in her kingdom, Jason had become the sole heir to Bruce’s kingdom. Being the second oldest of his siblings. But before any of that Jason had fallen in love with you.

“Lost young prince?” your voice comes from trees, and Jason glances around frantically. His hunting expedition had gone horribly wrong, a group of trickster illusionists had scared his men and the horses away. Leaving Jason behind.

“Who’s there?” He ask, raising his sword while turning in a circle, his eyes land on you as you step out from the shadows. The sun makes your eyes glow and Jason thinks you’re the most beautiful things he’ll ever see. His guard is lowered, as his eyes scan you up and down, taking in your beauty before moving back to your eyes.

You chuckle and he swears someone had to have casted a love spell on him, he can’t take his eyes of you. “Are you allowed to be this deep in the forest?” You ask and he gulps nervously as you step closer to him, your simple grey dress trailing behind you. “I’m surprised you made it through all the wards I put up around here.”

“Plus the Chimera,” you hum thoughtfully.

“Can you not speak?” You ask, inching closer till you’re in his personal space. “Apologies,” you smile.

“No.. no I can speak.” He whispers, staring down at you before sheathing his sword.

“Oh,” your smile widens. “Well, would you like to join me for tea?” You offer, and Jason knows he should’ve hesitated before nodding but he couldn’t help it. The excitement in your eyes when he agreed would be worth it if you were truly planning on killing him. Either way he let you lead him through the trees to a cottage that past the border of the land of witches and warlocks.

“At least try to entertain the thought, Todd.” Damian scoffed watching as another possible — approved — suitor walked away. “Father has gained many grey hair because of your devotion to the witch.” Truthfully Damian had no problem with you, he thought you were a perfect fit for his brother. Kind, loyal, able to put up with Jason’s moods.

It was just Bruce’s paranoia getting in the way of everyone’s peace. When the king had found out about you, he called in a favour from a warlock to get rid of whatever love spell you placed on his son. Safe to say John Constantine was amused by the request but assured Bruce that there was no spell on Jason and the boy’s infatuation with you was purely Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes at the thought, “or Bruce just needs to get over it.” He retorted, crossing his arms scowling as another pride princess tried to near him. “I’m leaving,” Jason says, looking over at Bruce as he makes his escape.

It didn’t take long for Jason to escape the palace grounds, through he was sure he had ripped his suit jacket, not that he’d see the stupid peace of fabric as he’d already dumped his clothes for a simple white poet shirt and some black riding pants. He rode his stallion to the forest’s entrance, stopping in front of it and trying it’s lead to a flimsy fence.

The prince entered the forest with no care, the protective wards shimmered as he entered, and the path illuminated in the darkness. Something you had done so he wouldn’t lose himself in the woods when he’d run from the palace and seek comfort in your cottage.

He quickly followed the path, passing the border and swiftly making his way to your home. When he arrived Jason knocked on the door softly, waiting for you to answer.

The door is answered a few seconds later, revealing a tall blond. The man groans, rolling his eye, “not you again.” He grumble, a cigarette dangling from his finger as he opens the door properly. “Kid! Your boyfriends here!” John calls out as he swings his coat over his shoulder, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he pats his pockets down looking for a lighter before snorting and lighting it with his fingers.

“Well go on in,” John shrugs, stepping out of the cottage you called home. “Oh, tell her to stop sending her little ravens to check on me, will ya?” John adds before disappearing into the misty pathway.

Jason always wondered how the man never found himself lost, or perhaps John never had somewhere specific he’d ever be going, cant be lost with no destination.

The second Jason stepped into the cottage he was met with the sight of you humming a tune, the same one he heard when the two of you met. Jason smiled, walking closer until he could wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Hi love,” you say as soft spoken as always. His eyes watched as you peeled potatoes before he kissed your cheek gently, “hi sweetheart.” He mumbled in return.

“How was the ball?” You asked, mainly teasing but with some curiosity.

“Missed you,” he huffed like a child, “Bruce is always trying to set me up with princesses. Who wants those snobby little bastards? Not me.” He complained.

“Just because Dick married a princess— who by the way comes from a magical bloodline— he thinks I’m going to do the same. Kori’s nice and all but how is it fair? Just because she’s royalty, its okay that Dick married her.”

You sigh softly, “he’s trying to protect you. People have never trusted those who come from this side of the world, faes, witches, shapeshifters. Sometimes with good reason, not all of us have good intentions.”

“But you do,” Jason retorts. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met, and i don’t say want anyone that isn’t you…. Is there a way that i could stay here with you?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Not without your father starting a war, we don't want a repeat of 1843.”

Jason groans but understands, Bruce would assume the worst if Jason just disappeared again, especially now that he was with you. He’d assume you’ve kidnapped him or some bullshit to feed his ideals.

“Can i stay for the night then?” He murmurs softy, his nose nudhung your cheek. “I just wanna love you before going back.”

You find your resolve melting away when you meet his eyes, blue and green. “One night, then home.” You nod.

“You are home,” he mumbles in response but doesn’t press further, instead the rest of the night is filled with laughter as you teach him a new recipe he’ll be sure to share with Alfred.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off