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luveline · 3 months

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begging on my hands and knees (if you haven’t already) for you to write something about Aaron during the birth of your child 🥲🥲 and jack’s reaction to meeting his new sibling

You suffer through labour, Aaron dotes, and Jack meets his baby sister. fem, 2k

cw for labour/delivery, no graphic imagery

For some people, giving birth is a fast affair. Dilation occurs quickly, and after twenty or so pushes, a baby is born. Some people can go into labour and be finished within the hour.

You, unfortunately, have not had that kind of luck. And that’s okay —it’s also entirely normal for this process to be difficult. Doesn’t make it hurt any less to watch, but Aaron has thick skin. Who cares what he’s feeling? You’re about to have a baby.

He stands at the head of the bed with his arm over your pillow, tired despite himself, a styrofoam cup of ice chips in his hand. He presses it to your cheek, and every couple of minutes he changes it to the other one. Your forehead is wet with sweat, your face puffy with sobbing tears, but you’re beautiful in your sleep. Beautiful to him.

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead where he stays for some time. Your heart monitor beeps.

A few minutes later, your heart monitor jumps. A strike of pain to warn of an oncoming contraction.

You drag yourself from sleep to find his eyes. “Hi,” you whisper.

He doesn’t know what to say. What can sum it up? Aaron doesn’t think he’s felt this many emotions in his life; he thinks of Jack, his baby face, and he thinks of Haley squishing his pink cheeks; he thinks of your hands, how chapped your palms are, how much he hates to see you crying like this; he thinks of your little baby so close to being here, and all your months of triumph and love and good luck to get to this moment.

This is the biggest privilege of his life, in line with Jack’s birth.

He doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but he makes himself a man who could deserve you. “Hello,” he says, pressing the back of his hand to your raging forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“It has to be time soon.”

“You think so? Should I find someone?”

He speaks in solid but hushed tones, as though a raised voice might hurt you more. You find his chest to press your hand to space above his heart, where you give him a little rub back and forth. “No,” you say, tears welling in your eyes as the monitor spikes, “not yet.”

He helps you into a sitting position which quickly becomes a bent over and keening position. Aaron obviously doesn’t know how childbirth feels, but he has experienced his own scar tissue ripping apart inside his abdomen as his organs flooded with his own blood. By the looks of it, you’re hurting worse than that. You don’t even speak. Your moans turn to panicked shouting before you get so scared your voice disappears.

He doesn’t like it at all. He waits a good long minute with you for the pain to pass, his hand in yours as you squeeze it to mulch, his nose pressed remorsefully to your cheek. It fades like all the others.

“I know,” he says as you start to cry in earnest, “it’s over. It’s over.”

“It’s not over,” you snip, sniffing.

He leans over your lap to press the button that asks for help. “You’re doing amazing.”

It’s a hard night. At nearing one in the morning, they measure your dilation and agree it’s time to push. You tolerate it well, but it still takes two and a half hours of agony and tears. Aaron doesn’t cry, but he does feel an acute ache for you, and an excitement you probably can’t feel yourself. Every push is one step closer to the baby.

Just after three hours, when the midwives are whispering to one another in concern and Aaron is sure he’ll never feel his left hand again, you have a baby.

She’s snipped, cleaned up, and laid gently on your chest within seconds. You’ll never know how whole and brimming Aaron’s heart feels in that moment, to see you crying against the little forehead of your baby, to watch your arms cradle her body tenderly.

He’s sure everyone in the room will forgive him for crying too. Just a couple of tears, smiling as you look down at her in pure joy. No shock, no sign of all that pain.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron,” you say suddenly, to the delight of everyone in the room, “she’s got your frown.”

She’s screaming, as babies tend to do. Aaron presses himself as close as he can to confirm the wrinkle between her brows.

“I’m sorry,” he says, kissing your cheek.

You breathe out deeply. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

Sorry for the pain and gunk. You forgive him for everything.

You’re feeling nearly yourself again when morning comes, Aaron can tell. Showered, changed, swaddled with post-labour padding and with half a sandwich in your stomach, he can nearly forget the sound of your panicked crying. You’re hoarse as though you’ve been out for the night with friends, whispering clumsy love notes to your daughter where she naps in your lap.

“So pretty,” you say, running an awed fingertip over her nose, “so beautiful, baby. You’re so beautiful. Look at your liccle nose.” You dip into sugar. “Aw, look at your nose.”

“That’s your nose,” he says.

“I think so.”

She’s a baby so it’s hard to say for sure, but Aaron hopes she has your lovely nose and that she looks exactly like you, if she only keeps his wrinkled brow.

You lean back. The bed has been wiped down and changed, your pillow from home propped behind your shoulders. Jack’s good luck talisman sits on the night table, waiting for him to visit. Aaron has been away for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and still he misses him after not seeing him these last eighteen hours.

“He’s on his way, right?” you ask, noticing Aaron’s quiet.

Aaron picks up Mr. Bear where he sits on the nightstand and massages the teddy’s arms and stomach. “Can’t you hear him?”

“My sister!” Jack is saying, words too fast to pick up each one, “Jess, we have to be faster!”

“I’m going as fast as I can, sweetheart!”

Aaron meets him at the door. Jack sees his father, probably just the shape of him, and starts to run down the hallway. He slams into Aaron’s legs, who pulls him up against his chest for a two-armed hug that he couldn’t need more.

“Jackers,” he says in relief.

“Dad, put me down!” He must see you over Aaron’s shoulder. “Y/N! You’re okay!”

“I’m more than okay, handsome! Were you worried about me?”

“Is that my baby?” he says, rubbing his eyes with both hands.

You, Aaron and Jess all laugh. “Your baby sister. Are you gonna come and say hello? She’s been waiting for hours for you to wake up,” you say.

“I was waiting for her for hours first,” Jack says, climbing over Aaron’s shoulder, and then slipping back down as his father walks him into the hospital room to stop by your bed.

Jess stays by the door.

Aaron puts Jack on the bed beside you where there’s not much room for him, hands clasped around his arms just in case he does something sudden. “Oh,” Jack says, breathing out slowly. “Wow, dad.”

“Wow,” Aaron echoes.

“Can I touch her?”

Assured he’ll be careful, Aaron lets Jack loose, and the boy waits for your signal before he pokes at the baby’s fisted hand.

“She’s really little, huh?” you ask quietly.

“Was I this little?”

“You were smaller,” Aaron whispers.

“She’s a real baby, dad.”

“She’s super real. Does she look like you pictured?” Aaron asks.

“No, I thought she’d look more like me.”

This is really funny to you. Careful, you hold the baby to your chest and free an arm to cup Jack’s shoulder. “Buddy, I missed you. Aunt Jess says you stayed up past your bedtime, how are you feeling?”

He smiles and goes shy at the same time. “I’m okay. I missed you, too.”

“That’s good, I’m feeling good too.” You sniffle.

“Are you sure?” Jack asks.

“This is the best day ever. My little girl meeting her big brother.” You take a steadying breath, and you turn the baby toward Jack gently. “Do you wanna hold her?”

Jack sits against your pillows and waits with pale terror on his face for you to pass him the baby. He bends over her as soon as she’s been placed, worried she’ll tip out of his lap, and you stroke the short brown strands of his hair, crops of it moving shiny under your touch.

Aaron takes his phone from his pocket. In his rush, he struggles to find the capture button, recording a video instead that will take up most of the memory on his old phone and that he will refuse to part with.

“Did she look like this in your belly?” Jack asks you, frowning.

“Not the whole time. Why, does that bother you?”

“Was she squished?”

“No, she wasn’t squished. ‘Member how big my belly was?” You laugh warmly. “How big it still is.”

“Will it ever be small again?”

“Maybe somebody. I don’t mind.” You stroke his hair again. Baby makes a wet noise. “What do you think, lovely?”

“About your belly?”

“About the baby.”

“I wish I was her.”

You stroke behind his ear. “How come?”

“I’m so tired, I wish I was sleeping too. But she is really small.”

Aaron catches your relieved smile before he puts down the phone. “Do you want a nap, buddy? We can take a nap.”

“I can take him home?” Jess suggests quietly.

Aaron thanks her for everything. When you’re feeling better, he’s sure you’ll want to introduce Jess to the baby as well, but Jess doesn’t want to impose, and Aaron lets her go without fuss. Perhaps it’s a little hard on her to see. He doesn’t know.

But Jess is a good woman, and he knows she’ll want to meet your baby whenever you’re ready. For now, it’s just you, Aaron, Jack, and the baby Hotchner.

Aaron sits in the plastic wrapped chair by the bed and leans back to accommodate sleepy Jack, who falls asleep with little more than a back rub and his family’s proximity. You look like you could sleep, too, but you won’t put the baby in the bassinet. You hold her and watch her for a soothing stretch of time, Aaron watching you both.

“He’ll be more enthusiastic after he’s slept,” Aaron promises.

You pucker and press teeny kisses to the baby’s ear. “He was perfect,” you murmur. “He was so gentle. We’re so lucky.”

Aaron reaches over to hold your hand. You indulge him with an open palm, the two of you shushing in tandem as your children rouse, both of them perfect, and both parents very lucky.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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zorobff · 1 year

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i bet on losing dogs. (opla!zoro x reader)

synopsis: zoro is defeated by mihawk and therefore unable to claim the title of the world’s greatest swordsman. you just want him to know that he’s still the greatest to you.

warnings: mentions of blood, some direct dialogue from opla, not much romance i literally just wanted someone to tell zoro he’s enough bc he deserves it <3

a/n: idk if this is any good i just wanted an excuse to write and one piece has been my fixation for like 2 months now so :P

you can’t move.

it seems as if every bone in your body is frozen in place despite your brain telling you to do something — anything. you stand there, eyes helplessly locked onto zoro’s weak and defeated body. your heart is racing and you’re unable to stop your mind from doing the same. after all, there was a certain unease that came with seeing someone like roronoa zoro be conquered. his dream of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman had been crushed within minutes. knowing zoro, that thought would be tougher to overcome than any physical wound.

you want to run to him. to be with him.

luffy beats you to it.

“zoro!” he shouts with such pain that you wonder if he’s somehow hurting more than the swordsman is.

the sight of your captain sprinting across the deck of the baratie manages to push you to action. the two of you rush to zoro’s side, trying and failing to look anywhere but the bright red gash across his torso. it’s even worse up close. with every heave of his chest, more blood oozes out.

the cut is impossibly deep and yet, you can’t help but feel grateful. you’d seen the size of mihawk’s sword. the thing could’ve split zoro in half with the flick of a wrist. just the thought of that sends a new wave of shivers down your spine. you thank every higher power that mihawk was feeling generous enough to spare your friend’s life.

“zoro?” you attempt to say his name calmly. “zoro, please talk to us.”

his eyelashes flutter as he attempts to keep conscious. you see the subtle wincing in his face, the clenching of his jaw. for a second you wish he would have passed out, at least then he wouldn’t have to endure all this agony. even though this was surely the worst hit anyone had landed on him during his extensive career, you could tell that wasn’t the hardest part for him.

his eyes stay glued to the skies, refusing to even acknowledge you or luffy. his irises gloss over and tears well up on his waterline. there could only be one thing on his mind, the one thing you knew he was truly passionate about; his promise. was he afraid he had let down that nameless person he always spoke of? that he had failed as a swordsman?

for some reason, you want to cry with him.

“you did good,” you whisper without a second thought. “just stay awake, okay?”

luffy nods in agreement, hand coming to grip zoro’s shoulder so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“monkey d. luffy,” calls mihawk, shifting everyone’s attention back to him. “what is your goal?”

your captain nearly growls. “i’m going to be the king of the pirates.”

luffy’s response could seem rehearsed. mechanical, even. but the truth is he just meant it that much. his conviction was unmatched in every possible way.

“king of the pirates, eh?” repeats mihawk. there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. however, he wasn’t mocking luffy, as many people tend to do when they hear of his dream. “that is a much more treacherous path than defeating even me.”

luffy whips around to fix mihawk with a stern glare. “i don’t care. it’s what i’m going to do.”

“maybe you will at that,” muses the bearded swordsman. “this world could use a few more wild cards.”

their odd exchange ends there, leaving an unnerving silence. the sound of your choked back sobs getting caught in your throat and waves splashing against the deck is all there is for a moment.

“why the tears, girl?” mihawk inquires.

you can’t bear to look at him, much less respond. not after what he’d done to zoro. your hands that once rested reassuringly on your crewmate’s stomach now ball into fists. how could he behave so nonchalantly when he had injured zoro within an inch of his life?

“seems like you aren’t as plucky as the rest of your crew, hm?” mihawk comments when his question is met with silence.

hot tears of frustration roll down your cheeks. “get lost. you’ve done enough damage, haven’t you?”

“that would be incorrect. i was tasked with retrieving your captain for the marines. as you can see, i have yet to do that.”

“i couldn’t care less about what you came here for,” you tell him between gritted teeth. “how do you have the nerve to stand there and talk down to us after what you did to him?”

mihawk’s head tilts to the side as he observes you. pensively, he murmurs, “you care for him.”

“of course we care for him, he’s our crewmate!” luffy shouts in response, clearly missing the true meaning behind the words.

on the other hand, you opt to stay silent, slightly embarrassed about how quickly mihawk was able to catch on to you. were your feelings really that easy to see through? almost as if confirming your concern, mihawk coughs out a dry chuckle before his face falls stoic once more.

“look after him.” his gaze lingers on you when he says that. “it is too soon for him to die. roronoa zoro, grow strong and come find me. i’ll be waiting.”

with that, mihawk makes his exit. once the coast is clear, usopp and nami finally come scurrying over. the marksman kneels down on zoro’s left while the latter stays standing, almost too afraid to get close.

“he’s losing so much blood,” usopp notes, voice unsteady.

luffy is quick to shut down the true implication behind those words. “he’s going to be okay.”

a strangled groan escapes the green-haired swordsman in question. the four of you freeze. the moment feels eerily similar to when you watched him collapse after mihawk had struck him down. for the second time in a day, zoro has all of you holding your breath in anticipation.

“if i—” he swallows hard, eyes still shiny and looking upward. “—fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman... you’ll be disappointed. right?”

luffy’s gaze softens. “you could never fail me.”

however, your captain’s sincere words don’t seem to be enough. zoro finally rips his gaze away from the clouds, head lolling to the side to face you instead. those wide eyes of his always held so much intensity, so much emotion. now is no different as he meets your stare, seemingly in search of your reassurance as well.

it wasn’t that you were unsure of what to say but how to say it. you didn’t trust yourself to speak your mind and say what you truly thought of zoro. the last thing you needed was your feelings for him slipping out at a time like this. you decide to play it safe and just nod. “you know i feel the same way. we all do.”

“i need… to hear you say it,” he replies, voice cracking.

your heartbeat gets caught in your throat at the utter desperation in zoro’s voice. it sounded as if he truly needed your approval if he was going to survive this. it was unlike him to get hung up on something so trivial such as someone’s opinion of him. he never seemed to care what other people thought, why was he starting now? and with you, of all people?

before you can question it any further, zoro hisses. the pain causes his entire body to tense and his wound spurts fresh crimson. without thinking, your hand comes up to rest reassuringly on his cheek. automatically, your thumb begins rubbing soothing circles on the skin. he’s hot to the touch and slick with sweat but you don’t mind it. the way his body relaxes itself is all you care about. well, that and the way he leans into your touch. for someone who rejected physical contact at every given chance, this was new but very, very welcome.

the emotion of it all causes you to lose any concern you’d previously had over voicing your thoughts about zoro. you can’t help but give him the response he was begging for, regardless of how smitten you sounded.

“zoro, you’re the best i’ve seen. and i don’t just mean with your swords. no defeat could ever take away what you have, you know that right? almost everyday i ask myself what the hell i’m doing on the same crew as someone like you. you don’t understand how much it pains me knowing that you feel the need to prove your worth when clearly you’re the greatest there is. in every way. so, how could i ever be disappointed in you?”

there’s a few moments of silence. this time, you truly don’t hear a thing. not the waves, not the birds in the sky, not even the thumping of your own heartbeat. your brain has blocked out everything that isn’t zoro. the same zoro who’s breaking down into tears right in front of you. it’s an unbelievable sight, watching them stream down his face as he takes in everything you’d just said.

using what little strength he has left, zoro lifts a shaky hand to rest atop yours. you pause your ministrations on his cheek and let him intertwine his fingers with yours. he squeezes your hand so tightly that you’re positive it takes everything in him to do so.

“never… again,” he chokes out, tearful eyes meeting yours. “from now, until i beat him.” he uses his left hand to unsheathe his sword. he lifts it to the sky with purpose, as if to solidify this vow. “will i ever give you a reason to be disappointed in me. i, roronoa zoro, will never lose again!”

his grip becomes unsteady, causing his sword to fall from his grasp and clatter on the ground. his arm falls back to his side and he’s able to give you one last look before he’s out cold.

“zoro?” luffy calls, leaning forward. “zoro?!”

you suck in a shaky breath at the feeling of his hand going limp. you’re grateful he’s still breathing at the very least but it’s clear he needs medical attention fast.

“let’s get him inside,” nami commands. it’s the first thing she’s worked up the courage to say.

luffy and usopp waste no time shifting zoro’s arms over their shoulders while you and nami take his legs. despite your joint efforts, the four of you struggle to drag zoro off the baratie; you blame his rigorous training that had made him all muscle. usually you wouldn’t complain but it sure made carrying him aboard the going merry a difficult task. at last, he’s dumped onto the table in your makeshift kitchen.

“get the first aid kit,” nami demands, opening zoro’s shirt to inspect the severity of his wound.

“do we even have one?” usopp replies as he shifts around every cupboard and drawer on the ship.

“zoro… can you hear me?” luffy’s quiet voice gets lost in the commotion your two other crew mates are creating. but you take notice.

“he’s going to be alright,” you tell him. whether you say it for luffy or yourself, you aren’t certain.

“someone needs to go back to baratie,” nami sighs, running a hand through her ginger locks. “maybe one of the customers is a ship’s doctor.”

the devil fruit user blinks a couple times. “right. a doctor. we need a doctor.” he sprints out of the kitchen, presumably in search of one.

once your captain’s gone, nami aids usopp in scouring the kitchen, in search of anything that could potentially help your crew mate until he’s able to receive the proper medical attention.

you decide to stay right by zoro’s side. not once do you leave him.

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #opla zoro x reader #one piece x reader #opla x reader #zoro imagine #zoro fluff #zoro angst

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risuola · 1 year

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HEADACHE — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN ft. Yuji Itadori

Your head has been killing you all day but you tried to play it off as nothing to not worry your boyfriend, but he noticed and didwhat he could to ease your suffering.

cw: fluff, Itadori is 18 and is a vessel for Sukuna, reader is in pain (duh), things like SA and su1cide are mentioned (nothing discriptive though), there is like, one slightly suggestive joke I guess? it's fluff, let me remind you! — 1,7k words

a/n: yet another fluffed out piece of writing for the king, because I love him struggling to keep his authority, alright? there are also so many fics where Sukuna is just purely violent that I feel like him being everything but violent is very much in demand and I love him more gentle 🖤 i also often get headaches like the one described so it was my inspo, kinda.

It hurt. Your head had been killing you since this morning and slowly it was getting to the point where you couldn't even move. It felt like a storm had been raging inside your skull for hours, you couldn't think, couldn't eat, couldn't concentrate on anything all day, and three painkillers didn't help at all. Your vision was blurry, your balance was off, everything seemed too loud, too close, too bright, too intense. You wanted to scream, you cried, and even begged whatever there is in the universe to just take this pain away.

"I can't," you whispered, crying quietly into your pillow as night fell. "I can't, I can't..." You tried not to wake Yuji, you even acted like it hurt less than it really did, just so he wouldn't worry, but now you couldn't hold it anymore. Your hands were shaking, your vision went black, and you wanted to die.

You got up, quietly and carefully, and slowly padded to the bathroom, feeling your way through the walls because your vision wasn't reliable anymore, and you put your head under the ice-cold water. Unpleasant shivers ran down your spine, your breath came short, but you stayed there, begging the university to ease the agony. And it did, for a moment. It all came back when you threw a towel over your head, unable to withstand the cold anymore. There was no point, you were dying, there was no other way.

Defeated, you dried your hair as best you could and went back to bed, where the moment you laid down, Yuji's arm found its place over your middle. He was still asleep, thankfully, and you pushed a pillow over your face and dived into the darkness.

"Is this suicide?", a voice that you only hoped was the creation of your mind reached your ears and you ignored it for the time being. Yuji was sleeping, he didn't move his hand from over your belly, he couldn't... "It's unwise to ignore me."

"Please, I can't do this now..." you whispered and took the pillows away. It was wet with tears, and so was your face when you looked at him. It was Sukuna, but it seemed like he had very little control over Itadori's body. Or maybe he intentionally kept you close to him so that you would die of a heart attack, but the sudden rush of blood that made your heart pump much faster than usual only made you feel worse.

"You can't do what?"

"Why are you here?" you asked, wiping your face.

"I love watching people suffer, and you seem to be just the kind of show I'd enjoy."

"Of course you do..."

"What is the source of your pain?"

"My head hurts. So fucking bad."

"Poor little human," he chuckled, lifting his head and resting it on his hand for a better view. In any other situation you would have pushed him away, tried to distance yourself, but now you had no power to fight back, so you stayed where you were, in the emotionless embrace of a curse that lives inside your boyfriend.

"If you stepped out to enjoy my pain, please go fuck yourself. Not the best timing, curse."

"How rude," he chuckled, "as if you were in a position to speak to me like that. I can slice you to ribbons before that brat even thinks of taking control back. Oh, imagine how devastated he would be to wake up to the bloody mess of his little girlfriend."

"Oh, sure. How creative, threatening me with death, very original. Perhaps you should surprise me and use your little hocus pocus to ease the pain I feel instead of scaring me."

"You want me, the King of Curses, to heal a human?"

"Kindness would be a good look on you."

"Oh, you're so desperate," he laughed and you covered your eyes with your forearm, already tired of his shit. The silence hurt you, not to mention his amused tone.

"Get lost, Sukuna," you muttered. "If you're not going to help, then stay quiet."

"And who are you to order me around?" his long fingers clawed at your chin, forcing your head in his direction, and you lowered your arm to look at him. Red eyes almost glowed in the darkness of the night, but he looked calm. "Hmm? Little human, have you forgotten where your place is?"

"I know where my place is, but you're in my bed now, so the only rules that apply here are mine."

"What a mouth," he chuckled again. "I can make this headache worse, you know."

"By annoying me to death? You're doing great at that."

It really wasn't wise to push Sukuna's buttons like that, your luck was definitely going to run out sooner or later, and even if you thought you wanted to die because of the headache, that wasn't really what you wished for.

"Sukuna, please, don't be a dick, help a human out."

"Oh, but watching you in pain is so much more entertaining."

"Have you ever tried to be nice, or is the concept foreign?"

"Being nice doesn't hold any power."

"Oh, but it does. When people truly respect you, not because they're scared, that's a different kind of power. And you like power, right?"

"I'm the strongest, I don't care what maggots think of me as long as they kneel in fear."

"If those people are maggots, doesn't that make you like a maggot king or something?"

"Oh, you're pushing your luck."

"Sure, whatever," you smack his hand away from your face and put the pillow back over it. If he's not going to be helpful, what was the point of paying attention to him? Just because he wants it doesn't mean he has to get it.

"And now you plan to ignore me?"

With no answer, you just pressed the plush item harder to your face, hoping that the pressure would soothe you even a little, but no luck.

Sukuna achieved his goal of making your heart beat even faster when he suddenly climbed on top of you, pinning you under his body and throwing the pillow away. Both of your hands he pressed to the bed with only one of his own, and you looked at him with a combination of surprise, confusion, and a glimmer of fear. This was not an ideal situation in any universe.

"What now?"

"Oh, don't be so scared, you wanted me to help you, right?"

"I fail to notice where the helping part is..."

"You humans fail to notice a lot of things."

Ryomen continued to touch you, but his touch felt anything but intimate. It burned, it felt targeted when his palm brushed against your knees or your inner thigh. Wherever he pressed, you felt some pain.

"What on earth are you doin-"

"I advise you to shut up before I change my mind."

And so you did, still unsure of what was happening. Why was this man touching your skin when you could have sworn, he wasn't interested in any kind of human physical touch. He was toying with you, enjoying the way your heart was racing in your chest, how you struggled to free your hands from his relentless grasp, and how you tried so hard to stay calm when he knew your mind was racing 180 miles per hour and off the cliff.

"Such a simple human," he mocked, his fingers brushing way too close to your underwear to go unnoticed, and your hips bucked up to create just a little more distance. This had to be another kind of torture and he was having fun making you so pliable. His eyes never left your face and you struggled to maintain eye contact. "What if I opened a mouth on the palm of my hand right now?" he teased, and you didn't get the subtext at first, but once you did, the vision struck you in a way it shouldn't have.

"Christ, you're more perverted than I suspected a curse would be," you muttered, turning your head to the side, creating an opening for him to kiss the tear off your cheek.

"You don't know much about curses, sweetheart," he laughed directly into your ear, brushing it with his lips as he moved his hand higher, sliding it under your blouse to your hip. "There are some mindless curses out there that only focus on sexually abusing their victims." This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. But his tone didn’t change, he was amused more than anything. "But I'm not a simple, horny curse, don't be so afraid. I'm the king."

"For a king, you do kinda often need to remind people about it..." you muttered, breathing in and out, focusing on this simple thing to avoid turning into a mess.

"Remember my advice?"

"Yup."

You closed your mouth and a wave of pulsating pain washed over your whole body again, radiating from your head as if a bomb had just exploded here. You closed your eyes tightly, tears once again threatening to flow from under your squeezed eyelashes. It hurt so much that you couldn't think straight, everything was blurry and you had trouble even recognizing the man above you. You wanted to pull your hands out of his hold, to put them on your temples, to do anything to ease the throbbing ache, but he wouldn't let you.

His hand pressed against your forehead. A moment later, the grip on your wrists loosened and the man rolled off you, taking a place beside you and pulling you into his chest. When you opened your eyes, no sign of black marks met your sight.

"Did he help you?" Yuji asked, his voice soft and cooing, but with worry clearly intertwined with his words. "Does it still hurt?"

"Huh?"

"Your head, does it hurt?"

"No... You asked him for it?"

"Yeah... I noticed you were in pain today, but you tried to play it off as nothing. And you didn't sleep and cried and I saw how many pills you took and still hurt," he spoke so softly, kissing your head tenderly and caressing your back with care and affection. "I'm sorry, I guess he had to scare you a little because, you know... ego."

"Thank you, baby," you pressed your lips to his chest, nuzzling into him even more.

"Oh, don't be, you know I'd do anything for you."

Next day you noticed that every bruise you had on your body wasn’t there anymore. Every hurt you earned through your every day clumsiness and trainings disappeared.

So that’s why Sukuna was touching you.

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stillfoodforguys · 6 days

Text

Austin is a friend of mine with an interesting job. He runs a survival training program, where he’ll take people out into the wilderness and teach them some new skills one-on-one. I know a few people who signed up, but I’ve never heard any review from them afterwards. In fact, I can’t actually recall hearing back from them at all. Anyway, I finally agreed to join the course myself one day.

Austin is definitely the kind of guy you could trust to keep you safe out in the wild. He was a tall dude with immensely muscular arms and pecs, and a thick solid midsection that suggested he’d been bulking up recently. After a long morning of clambering through the cliffs and trees, we took a short break by the river. When I asked him what to do about food, he wrapped a bulging arm around me and held me beneath one of his musky pits while he gestured out to the natural scene around us.

“Out here you’ll have to forage and hunt, eat whatever you can find to keep your energy up. Even your fellow explorers make a good source of food!”

When I turned to face Austin in surprise at his comment, my eyes were met with a gaping maw, baring his teeth and tongue at me that glistened with drool. My head was quickly engulfed and forced down his throat, and I felt his rough hands grab my waist to start stuffing me deeper. I tried to thrash around, but he was way too powerful for me to stand a chance at stopping him. Each gulp squeezed my body through his gullet with crushing force, his tongue lathering me up while he savoured the raw taste of my skin.

Soon I was fully packed inside Austin’s muscle gut, every inch of me gently throbbing with pain and overwhelmed by his sweltering body heat. It was even worse when he clenched his abs to force out a massive burp, which fortunately knocked me out so I didn’t have to deal with the agony much longer.

“Ahh that’s the stuff, you’ll offer me all the nutrition I need!” I can’t imagine how many people have already been churned up inside Austin’s stomach, but I’m sure I won’t be the last.

#gay vore #mm vore #oral vore #digestion

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year

Note

So I was wandering if you could please do a writing prompt based off of “ she is a failed experiment and he is the success of the same experiment.” I know that might not be enough to flog off of and a am sorry if you can’t. I also want to thank you in advance.

"Come with me."

An alarm rang shrilly throughout the labs; no doubt for him, of course for him. He stood in front of her, devastatingly perfect, and held out a hand for her to take.

She stared up at him, eyes wide and heart in her throat.

"We don't have much time," he said. "Come with me, Katie."

KT-068 pushed carefully to her feet. The thick, one way window of her cell had been shattered. Glass dug at her bare feet, oozing blood onto the floor. He flinched. She didn't.

"You're running," she said, softly. "Leaving."

"Yes." He waved his hand impatiently. He took a step closer, his shoes crunching over the debris. He looked ready to pick her up and carry her. Away from the broken glass, away from all of it. "Katie, please."

"I'll slow you down."

"You will if we keep debating this!"

They wouldn't have expected him to come for her. Then again, they likely wouldn't have expected him to try and escape either, which made her smile. As for leaving....oh the wanting ached in her, fierce enough to be frightening.

"I'm not like you," she said. "You'd get further on your own. I don't - you should go. Run. Leave."

"Do you want to come?" he demanded, searching her face.

She looked down. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"Katie." It was a growl of pure frustration, pure...something.

She glanced up. His eyes were watery; begging. For her. It seemed impossible. She swallowed hard.

The experiment looked at enhancing blood properties to make it more regenerative. A medicine. A youth serum. Her blood healed her, but at the crucial stage of giving it to other people it always killed them. Poisoned them horribly from the inside out.

He had succeeded at even that final stage. He was their victory march. His blood, his essence, was not some inherently selfish thing. Even now...

He took her hand, drawing her up into his arms. He seemed unconcerned by the blood that would hurt all others - not that anyone had ever tested if she could hurt even him. Why take the risk?

"Careful," she said, anyway, clutching his shoulders. "I don't - you have to be careful. Stay back. Don't let me contaminate you."

He made a rude noise at that and they both pressed a little closer to each other, despite her words.

"I'm not leaving you here to rot with them," he said. "I know I phrased it as a question, but...bloody hell. They treat you worse than me."

"Well, I did kill quite a lot of them."

"That wasn't your fault."

It had felt like her fault. It always felt like her fault.

He cupped her cheek, gaze blazing. "Do you want to come?" he asked again.

The alarm continued wailing; the sounds of movement and panic closer than it had been before. They were running out of time.

"What if they don't like me out there?" KT-068 whispered. "In the world? What if they think I'm a freak? Or a monster? What if - what if something happens and people get hurt again?"

"Then I'll help them. And I like you."

"Oh."

"I wouldn't have survived this place without you," he said. "I don't care if you slow me down. Whenever I dreamed of freedom it was for both of us. Don't you see?"

There were a thousand things to see in his eyes.

She exhaled a trembling breath. "Can we go to the pier? I've always wanted to see the ocean."

A smile lit up his face. "Yes. We'll have chips and candy floss and go on all the rides. We'll travel to so many places."

"I'd like that. I want that. I - I want to come with you."

He carried her across the glass.

Her feet had already healed by the time he set her down again, outside the remnants of her cell. "Can you walk?" he still asked. "Can you run?"

She could have run even if every step was agony, if it meant getting out of there.

It was her turn to take his hand, to pull him forward. "Just watch me."

In the end, she left a trail of blood and bodies across the facility.

But they were free.

#writing #story #ficlet #creative writing #writeblr #experiment #idk

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candycandy00 · 11 months

Text

The Doll House - A Geto Suguru x Reader Fanfic Part 4 (Final)

You sell yourself to a brothel to feed your family and Geto Suguru is in charge of training you to be the perfect submissive sex doll.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Geto’s. I’m not sure how many parts it will have. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Dubcon. Submission. Extreme humiliation. Voyeurism. Light degradation. Masturbation. First time sex. Fem Reader. This Divider by @benkeibear!

When Suguru enters his room, he finds his doll huddled in a corner, shivering. She’s pulled his shirt on, but it dwarfs her, the sleeves covering her hands. He approaches slowly, and stops a few feet away before kneeling down to her level.

“Can we talk?” he asks her, his voice soft and even. “Not as trainer and doll, just as people.”

She looks up at him. Her eyes are puffy and wet. Seeing the anguish on her face makes him feel like he’s been stabbed. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” she says. “You said I can trust you, that you’ll keep me safe. But when I felt unsafe, when I was scared, I turned to you! And you… you…”

“I hurt you, and I’m sorry,” he began. “You have no idea how sorry I am. I thought this would upset you, yes. But I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you. If I had, I swear I wouldn’t have put you through that.”

To emphasize his apology, Suguru bows down low to the floor, touching his forehead to the carpet. “Please forgive me for failing you as a trainer, as a person.”

He doesn’t look up to see her reaction, but after a few moments of silence, he hears her voice say, “I want to know why. Why did you do it? What did I do to deserve punishment like that?”

Finally lifting his face, he gazes at her wet but determined eyes. “The truth is, you scared me this afternoon,” he tells her. “I could tell you’re getting too attached to me. Remember what I told you? The cruelest fate for a doll is falling in love with her trainer. Because that trainer is going to hand her over to some other man and then move on to the next doll. I’ve seen it absolutely devastate dolls in the past, and I didn’t want that to happen to you, so I thought if I did something drastic, it would stamp out your feelings for me.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him. It’s agony not knowing what she’s thinking, but he goes on. “That’s also why I haven’t had sex with you yet. I’m afraid it will only make the attachment worse.”

He doesn’t say so, but he’s even more afraid of the fact that he’s growing attached to her. He denied it to Satoru, but his longtime friend knows him better than anyone, and he’d hit the nail right on the head.

His doll narrows her eyes at him in a look of disapproval that sends a shock of panic through him. No doll has ever looked at him this way. “You’re selfish,” she says. “You decided what you thought was best for me on your own. You didn’t even ask me how I felt or what I wanted! Yes, I’m attached to you. Yes, I’m in love with you! But maybe I’m prepared for whatever heartache I’ll feel when we separate. Maybe I still think it’s worth it!”

Suguru blinks in surprise. Is his doll actually stronger than he thought? Looking at her now, with steely resolve in her eyes, he thinks she’s more beautiful than she’s ever been. Not to mention the fact that she’s wearing his shirt. He’s seen her naked this whole time, but somehow knowing his shirt is against her body is getting him riled up.

God, he’s falling for her.

He bows his head down again. “To make things right, I will submit to you for twenty-four hours. I’ll do anything you want, no matter what it is.”

******************

You stare at Suguru’s bowed, submissive form. Is he serious? Is he really going to do whatever you say? You decide to test him.

“Tomorrow morning at breakfast, I want you to go to the dining hall naked! And jack off in front of everyone!”

His eyes become as round as saucers, a blush creeping over his face. Then he takes a deep breath and looks straight at you with a strained but determined expression. “Okay. If that’s what I have to do to make things right, I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

He nods.

You can’t resist laughing. “I’m just kidding! I wouldn’t make you do that. I’m not that cruel.”

His face shifts from relieved to guilty. “I really will do anything you ask. Just tell me what you want.”

You think for a moment, then climb to your feet. “Take your clothes off, and don’t wear anything for the rest of the night.”

He stands up from his kneeling position on the floor and looks down at you. Again you see that fire in his eyes. He’s already shirtless, so he unbuckles his belt. Then he kicks off his shoes, opens his pants, and slides them down his legs, leaving only his boxers.

You find yourself breathing a little faster as you watch him push his boxers down and step out of them. There’s something lurid about seeing him stark naked here, outside the bathroom.

His body is divine. Perfectly toned, with smooth skin, eyes like darkened amber, hair a black river pouring down his back. His cock is growing hard before your eyes as he looks at you. Why? You’re actually covered up for the first time in two weeks. Regardless, you can’t stop staring at him.

“Now sit on the edge of the bed,” you say, “and pleasure yourself.”

He seems surprised for a moment, then gives you a sensual grin and lowers himself onto the bed, sitting on the mattress, facing you. He opens his thighs slightly, now fully erect, and begins lightly stroking himself while looking at you.

His hand moves slowly at first, sliding up and down his shaft, his thumb brushing over his tip. Then he starts to move a little faster, a little harder. After a few minutes, you can see a sheen on his skin as his hand smears precum from the tip over the rest of it. You want to wrap your lips around it, but you don’t. This is his punishment after all. Instead you stand just a few feet away, watching. His eyes never leave your face, and just to tease him, you lick your lips.

You hear his breaths come harder, see his face flushed pink as his hand strokes faster. His hair is still loose, some of it in his eyes as he moves. You’ve never seen a hotter sight in your life. You rub your thighs together under his shirt, but it’s not enough. Not enough friction. While he stares at you with lusty eyes, you reach down and press the soft fabric of his shirt between your legs, against your bare, wet pussy, and rub.

The fire in his eyes becomes an inferno. You hear his creamy voice gasp out, “Fuck, you’re so…” But he stops before he can finish. He’s breathing fast, jacking off faster and faster, and you know he’s close. You can’t resist any longer. You drop to your knees in front of him and open your mouth, extending your tongue. He looks surprised, but then he quickly presses his tip to your tongue and releases, cumming into your mouth in great spurts.

When he’s empty, he falls back on the bed, panting, one arm draped over his face. After he regains his strength, you insist that he takes a shower while you watch. You’ve done this every night, but somehow it feels different when you’re covered up and he’s not. You also order him to dry his hair but leave it hanging loose.

You finally get to shut the door while you shower, reveling in the comfort of the warm water and the privacy. You steal another one of his big comfy sweatshirts to wear for the night, but when you start to put the one you wore earlier in the hamper, he stops you.

“I’ll wash this later,” he says, gently pulling it from your grasp. You watch him fold it and shove it into a drawer, thinking that’s sort of gross, but a little flattering.

“I’m sleeping in the bed tonight,” you tell him, already crawling under his covers.

“Of course,” he says, getting the blanket you’ve been using from his closet and preparing to sleep on the floor.

“Wait. I want you to sleep in the bed too.”

He pauses, looking at you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, then look down a bit shyly. “And… I want you to cuddle me.”

*******************

When she said those words, Suguru made his decision. But it will be weeks before he tells her.

He slips under the covers, then scoots as close as possible to her. She’s lying on her side, facing him, looking at him with wide, glassy eyes. He pulls her into his arms, the warmth of her delicate frame wrapped in his sweatshirt feeling incredible against his naked body.

For a while, they just stay that way, the only movement coming from the rise and fall of their chests as they breathe each other in. She smells sweet, like the cherry shampoo he put in the shower for her. Finally she shifts, turning her face up to look at him. “You aren’t too cold, are you?”

He smiles down at her. “No, you’re keeping me warm.”

She snuggles even closer to him, and he’s overcome with a feeling of guilt. He can’t stop thinking about what he did, about her terrified face looking to him, hoping for him to stop that whole nightmare. Feeling the way he does for her right now, with her in his arms, he wishes he could go back in time and punch himself in the face.

But it’s done, it happened, and he can’t change it. He can only work to make it up to her. Right now, he only wants to make her happy, to make her feel good, to be even closer to her.

He tilts his face down, and does something he’s never done to a doll before: he kisses her lips.

She blinks, surprised, before her eyes slide closed, her mouth opening to allow him to deepen the kiss. She tastes as sweet as she smells, and his hands glide over her body beneath the covers, sliding under the shirt.

He rolls them both over, leaving her on her back with him on top of her, and kisses her again. When he stops to take a breath, he looks down at her and asks, “Do you still want me to fuck you?”

Her eyes seem to light up with excitement. “Yes!”

*****************

You thought you’d be scared. You’ve imagined your first time over and over, and it always left you feeling both excited and nervous. But right now? With Suguru sliding his sweatshirt up your body to reveal your breasts, his lips planting kisses down your neck and collar bone before taking one hardened nipple into his mouth, you only feel elation.

Every touch is gentle, soft, warm, as his hands explore you in ways they never have before. His movements are intimate, affectionate. He lightly grinds his hard body against you, and you can feel him all over. His hair, still loose, flares out around him, falling over both of you like a curtain. Your hands can’t resist grabbing it, running your fingers through it as he pushes your legs apart.

His fingers slip between your folds, stroking your clit until your pussy is glazed and ready. It doesn’t take much. You’ve been aroused all night, with him walking around the room completely naked. He scoots forward, positioning himself, then looks at your face.

You raise your head from the pillows and kiss his lips, confirming that you’re ready.

Suguru presses himself inside you, slowly, inch by inch, watching your face intently. There’s discomfort, but no pain, as you feel yourself stretch around him. He’s going slowly enough to give your body time to adjust, careful to avoid tearing the delicate skin. When the stretch becomes a bit much, you wince, and he pauses.

“Are you okay?” he asks, so sweetly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you tell him.

“Can you take a little more?”

You nod your head. “I want all of you.”

He pushes further in, and finally he sighs in pleasure. “It’s all in,” he says.

For a while, he doesn’t move. He’s letting you get used to his size. The discomfort you felt fades away, leaving only a pleasant sensation of warm fullness. He’s inside you. The man you’re in love with is inside you, and just thinking about that makes your whole body tingle.

“I’m going to move now,” he says, and then he slowly pulls part of the way out before pushing back in. He watches your reaction carefully, and when you show no signs of pain, he begins thrusting slowly in and out of you.

Your breath hitches as his cock goes in deeper than before, hitting a spot that makes your toes curl. He looks down at you with that fiery expression, eyes almost dazed, hair messy around his face. And he begins moving a little faster, going incredibly deep each time, continuously hitting that sweet spot until you’re moaning under him. Your arms fly up to wrap around his neck, pulling his beautiful face closer so you can kiss him again as his thrusts become stronger, faster.

He’s using one arm to brace himself above you, the other is curled around beneath your head, holding you up, fingers in your hair, as his mouth devours yours. The way he’s looking at you, the way his breathing is matching your own, the way his thrusts are so deep and deliberate… he’s not having sex with you. He’s making love to you.

As if you have no control over them, your legs automatically wrap around him, and then your whole body is clinging to him, pulling him impossibly close.

“Feels so good… Suguru…” you moan out, barely noticing that you forgot to call him Master. You feel him twitch, feel his body becoming tense, and you know he’s on the edge, just like you. “Please… cum inside me…”

He’s breathing hard, staring at your face with such a lovely, lustful expression. Then he plunges deeper than ever into you, pressing against that heavenly spot, kissing you at the same moment.

It pushes you over the edge, and you cum around him at the same time he releases his seed inside you, your mouths drinking in each other’s moans.

When it was over, he helped you pull his shirt back down your body and the two of you fell asleep snuggled into each other’s arms.

*********************

Several weeks later, you find yourself standing in the welcome room of the Doll House, wearing your own clothes, waiting to meet your new owner. Your suitcase is sitting on the floor beside you, and you’re a nervous wreck.

Ordinarily, buyers are expected to come in for several in person visits before the transfer of ownership, so that the new owner isn’t a stranger to the doll. But your buyer preferred to remain anonymous and forgo the visits.

You said your goodbyes to the other trainers and dolls this morning at breakfast, then to Suguru this afternoon. You were a little sad that he didn’t seem as bothered by your separation as you were, but you suppose that’s to be expected. After all, he’s said goodbye to countless dolls before you.

You tried to stay calm and strong. You promised Suguru you could handle this, that you wouldn’t fall apart or make a scene, but it’s hard. You want to cry. You want to storm back into his room and beg him not to let you go. But you won’t do that.

Ever since that first night you made love, the training changed. Suguru insisted you wear one of his oversized shirts every time you left his room. He let you sleep in the bed every night with him, cuddled up like lovers. You still had to call him “Master Suguru” and obey all his orders, often doing lewd things to him or in front of him, but you came to enjoy those orders. There was a softness to him, a warmth in his smile when he looked at you. Because of that, you’d hoped… Well, best not to dwell on it.

As you stood there fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Excuse me, miss? I’m in the market for a doll.”

You whirl around to find Suguru standing behind you, grinning. You look at him in confusion. “What?”

“All trainers are allowed to pick one doll they’ve trained to keep as their own, just once during their career,” he says. “So I’m your new owner, if you’ll have me.”

Tears are stinging your eyes already. “If? If I’ll have you?!” you ask, wiping your face. “What a silly thing to say, Master Suguru!”

With that, you dive into his arms, feeling safe and comfortable for the first time since you signed the contract. There was no longer a looming shadow of some unknown owner who would control you for ten years. There was only Suguru, the man you loved.

The next ten years were looking very bright.

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene

#geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto #geto suguru #geto smut #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto suguru smut

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battybiologist · 10 months

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I hate how every time you have to stand against Palestinians being inhumanly slaughtered, someone pops up out of the woodwork to say "of course, but surely you must agree antisemitism is wrong"

I hate it because yeah, antisemitism is a plague on humanity, I wholeheartedly believe it. But opposing Israel isn't synonymous with antisemitism. In fact, Israel's attempts to make us believe so has done more to perpetuate antisemitism than anything pro-Palestinians (or anti-crimes against humanity, in my house) have done.

People have always fallen for Israeli propaganda. The consensus in the West for decades was "this conflict is extremely complicated, but in the end, Israel is in the right". It's not because of the prevalent racism in the West (although that certainly didn't help), but because the information was controlled by governments that had a vested interest in the existence of a Western-allied nation.

Now, with the decentralization of information, the October 7th attack brought the attention of many people towards Israel, much like the Bataclan attacks did, despite the fact that France was and still is doing far worse in Mali.

However, Israelis leaders, too busy relishing the opportunity to wipe out Gaza from history, launched their genocide while people's attention was still in Gaza's direction. And never as many people saw them for who they truly are: genocidal monsters

Then, they tried to peddle the same "antizionism is antisemitism" rhetoric. By doing that, they're forcing people into a choice: either support a genocide, or be branded an antisemite. A false dichotomy

Those who knew better, not least of which were the Palestinians, ignored this false dichotomy, but there are many people who don't know better, thanks to Israel's propaganda.

Some of the latter already didn't see us Arabs as humans, so it was thumbs-up for genocide, but for those who saw the brutality of the occupation, who felt the agony the Palestinian people were put under, they felt they had no choice but the non-genocide option.

I normally would blame those people for being ignorant dunces, and I partly do, but this ignorance was carefully cultivated by Israel and its allies, so the blame cannot rest on them themselves.

And I'm not just basing that on a couple of Internet dumbasses. I'm part of the Algerian diaspora, and I've seen so many other French-Arab people act exactly like I'm describing. Coincidentally, these people were almost always marginalized economically, culturally, legally, and most importantly, by the education system, all things that contribute to an inability to access the ressources necessary to learn more.

They were forbidden from educating themselves, so the lie that was ingrained in their brain is harder to fight (I know that, I tried to fight it locally for years and haven't succeeded yet)

And when you jump to condemn antisemitism in a conversation that didn't have anything to do with it, but did have a pro-Palestinian message, are you not contributing the perpetuation of the lie?

#israel #palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free palestine #israel is an apartheid state #israel is a genocidal state #israel is a war criminal #okay to reblog

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sevenrenny · 12 days

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Recently a relative asked me why I'm 'suddenly' always sick and that I was so healthy as a kid.

I was never a healthy kid. I was always in pain, but nobody believed me. I complained I had moments of dizziness, momentary visual blurriness and blindness, moments where I couldn't balance myself, and intense migraines so bad I fantasized popping a hole in my skull hoping that would get whatever was hurting me out of my head. I had days where it was just brain fog, but I was too young to know the word 'brain fog'. I'd have days where I was in so much pain I'd vomit.

But I got scolded for 'faking it' for attention or to get out of school. I got punished for 'being lazy'. So little by little, I learned complaining about constant pain that made me suicidal would make things worse for me. People punished me for telling them I was hurting, so I shut up.

Even when I became quiet about it, there were things I couldn't hide and my family rug-swept them: I passed out at school a few times from intense pain. I had multiple intestinal issues my family told me were normal, that 'it happens to everyone', telling me that 'Your dad had that happen so many times' while chuckling like it was funny. Every time, they waited for me to 'stop being dramatic' until I started screaming and writhing on the floor and they finally got me to the ER, scolding me the whole time for 'not saying anything sooner'.

During one of those visits, a doctor found a large tumor I was choking on. He found it by accident when he was putting a tube down my throat. I'd been having trouble breathing, but my family accused me of lying, and I'd started to think I was imagining it. Upon discovering the tumor, my mom's reaction was to scold me for giving myself a tumor.

After the tumor removal, the doctor had told her something seemed odd, and he talked with my mom for a bit but I can't remember what they said. We never went back to this doctor. When I asked my mom about it later, she told me the doctor was stupid and he had no idea what he was doing. (It was in my 20s when I went to check on my intestinal issue that the doctor told me he suspected I had gastroparesis, which he later confirmed it was.)

I struggled with classes because of the combination of undiagnosed medical issues, undiagnosed ADHD, undiagnosed dyscalculia, and having panic attacks (later got diagnosed with c-PTSD). My mom threatened to marry me off or kick me out of the house for almost failing math. I was sworn at, told horrific things that still stick with me (and the rest of the family blamed me for 'being lazy' and making her angry with me). I was a kid and couldn't understand why existing hurt, why, if it was so 'normal' to be in consent agony, everyone else seemed to not be struggling like me. I couldn't wrap my head around why everything that seemed so easy for everyone else was almost impossible for me.

It wasn't until an online friend asked me if I had some sort of disease because I was constantly in the hospital. I told her, "No, not really. What's the average number of times someone's in the hospital?" She said, "Renny, I've never once been to the ER." She was older than me. It was then that it clicked for me. I'd been so convinced that all of this was normal, that I was behind everyone else in life because I must be just a weak person because I was so behind even when I gave it my hardest.

I wasn't behind because I was weak. I was behind because I was never given the assistance I needed.

As soon as I became an adult and financially independent, I started seeking medical help. Got diagnosed with severe chronic migraines and other illnesses typically comorbid with chronic migraines and gastroparesis. (There are some issues I can't get medical help for in my country, so those will have to wait). I'm on medications now. Because of gastroparesis, pills didn't work for me too well, so a friend taught me how to use autoinjectors. I have friends who actually help me, give me advice, drive me to my appointments, and just be there for me emotionally.

Being medicated has made being alive so much more bearable. I can actually live my life now. Yes, I still have days where I'm in pain (not just migraines, but my other conditions, most of which don't have any treatments to manage them) but it's such a massive improvement from where I was before. I'm happier. I go to therapy. I found people I can talk about my pains and conditions freely to without being told I'm faking it or lazy. I don't work myself to the bone anymore; I shouldn't be giving my 100% to a job that refuses me accommodations when I'd need most of that to manage my health.

I'm back to complaining about pain because, before my family trained me to shut up about it, I was doing it right from the beginning. I'm supposed to complain about pain. Just because I can talk about it freely now, doesn't mean I was never sick before. Just because I'm on medications now, doesn't mean I didn't need them years ago.

I'm happier now as an adult. You just don't like that I'm visible about my illnesses now. It makes you uncomfortable that I self-administer injections, that I talk about my health the way that I want to. The thought of chronic illness makes you uncomfortable; you liked it better when I was quiet. You'd rather I don't find diagnoses for my illnesses, because, in your logic, if I don't go get the diagnosis then I'm not sick.

I was never a healthy kid. You just don't want to admit you went along with the rest of the family to abuse a disabled kid for being disabled.

#chronic migraine #chronic pain #chronic illness #gastroparesis #child abuse #dear diary #cw: ableism #disability

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mschievousx · 4 months

Text

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

xii. twelve: let it go

benedict bridgerton has not left his room for days now. he laid down with his agony, curled on his sheets. his pillow wet in the tears that served as witness of this torment.

most people grieve for those who don't know what they have until it is gone. but, what about those who do know? those who tried their hardest to hold on, yet could only look on helplessly while they lost the thing they loved the most. isn't it so much worse for them?

how many sleepless nights now, he does not know. when they were together, he avoided sleep so he could have more time with her. and now that she is gone, he wishes to sleep more so he might know fewer hours of her absence, and perhaps, spend longer in dreams with her.

it took him days to even talk, forgetting his own voice as he got so familiar with his cries. he wanted to be happy but found it painfully hard as her love was his happiness.

yet, what if love is not here to make us happy? perhaps, it exists to show us how much we can endure.

but benedict did not want to endure anymore.

for the first time in a long while, he was terrified. oh, how terrifying to face the future without the one you planned it with. how can you wake up from a nightmare if you are not asleep?

someone knocked on his door, one that he has recognised as anthony's knuckles by the firmness of the sound. he did not want to stay on his bed forever, so he desperately pushed himself out, trying to see what has been of the others. he neared to open the door slightly ajar before sitting down on a couch defeatedly, his brother surprised by the turning of the knob.

he stepped in, noting the desolateness of the room. he wanted to be there for him, but losing a loved one you were never able to fully love was a different kind of pain—one that anthony was not familiar with at all.

so, he did the only task he was left with. he walked to him, giving the pad he has been holding unto to his younger brother.

"her journal," he maintained his voice in a serene one, seemingly afraid that anything higher would trigger something from the other.

benedict turned to him at that with shock. he did not know she writes. he often thought the girl preferred saying her thought out loud than put it to paper. he opened it, reading from entry to entry, word by word.

a small snicker left his lips when the most he could read about was how the young little silva had fun infuriating him. it was clear on her handwriting—the curve of the letters, the stretch of its end. she was full of excitement when she was writing this. it was written in her point of view. he turned the twelfth page over, only to find that no entry follows anymore.

"why did she stopped writing when she was eight?" he turned to the older, eyes still with traces of redness. it was around the time armand had snitched his daughter to benedict, saying that the girl likes him.

"she said there was no longer a need to write what she felt because she can say it to you directly." anthony offered him a small smile, leaning down to turn the pages to the last, "she wrote on the day she left for the parliament."

the viscount watched as his brother traced each word with his fingers, afraid that it would be lost before he even realises it. noticeably, this one is written in the way her words talked to him directly. anthony placed a hand on his shoulder before stepping back again.

"i guess she knew she could no longer say it to you again."

my artsy,

i think i have loved you since i met you. i just mistook it for curiosity.

there are so many forms of love, and although it may have begun unromantically, i knew you were someone special to me. i would like to apologize—for coming into your life just to break your heart to pieces and leave you in the night.

i really would have loved to be able to attend the astronomical convention with you. we spent a night talking about it. if i knew i will not even get to go, i would have rathered spent the time with my lips in yours.

and so, if regrettably, the gods had it planned that this life of mine will never be enough to show you all my love, i promise—i will find you in another. and hopefully then, i still wouldn't run out of love and continue to pester you on to the next, and next, and for eternity.

because my love, we were never a match made in heaven. i am afraid afraid we are made in both far ends of the farthest cosmos.

and i will search every star, every galaxy, every universe, and every timeline until i find you.

know that i love you, down to my last word.

until we meet again,

forever your loraine

he pushed the pad farther from his eyes, afraid that the ink would smudge and her words can no longer be read. he held his head down, anthony going to his side at once and offered an arm at him.

benedict leaned weakly to him. he had told her before, and now it became his reality. the young lady was a fire—his fire—and he does not find himself worrying even if she will burn him. despite her absence, she still set him ablazed. he longs for nothing but her. how many life does he have to burn before he lives with her? and he could almost hear a whisper.

a hundred more. just a hundred more.

and he almsot felt relieved at that. a hundred more would be nothing. he was even prepared to burn thousands. that was how bewitched he was.

she was lovely—extremely, completely, entirely.

yet, even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

the following day, lady bridgerton could not hold it anymore. her son was spiralling away. she missed him. so, she ascended their stairs, aiming for the room of the said son.

anthony has told her that he was, at the very least, responsive. she did not want her son to be reduced as someone thankfully responsive. benedict has always been full of colors.

he was an art himself.

she knocked, turning the knob and was surprised it was not locked. violet entered slowly, seeing the figure behind a canvas.

she called out to him, "my son, come with us."

there was no response, continuing to walk towards the man. entering the room fully, she could see random sketches of the young silva.

picking up a paper, his mother commented, "she was beautiful."

violet could hear a small hum from her son, still not tearing his gaze away from the art he is currently working on, "she will forever be."

she warmly smiled at that. the son who has repeatedly told her before that what she and edmund had was rare, now utterly taken beyond mortal relations.

she placed an arm around his shoulders for comfort as she took a look at the painting, "you love her so much."

he added a detail on her features, "if i could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint."

her heart broke for his son she almost felt like it was her fault. maybe, that was why the two met each other and loved each other when they were still too young. they were not meant to grow older together.

she placed a peck on top of his head, "will you come out with us soon?"

benedict placed down his brush, exhaling defeatedly. nonetheless, he turned to his mother with a weak smile, "after i finish this."

violet nodded at that before giving him back his solitude. it took quite the days before he completed the artwork. the sun rose and set, yet the stars only dimmed.

on the night he finally finished the painting, the dead of night was clear and the stars began to find their shine once again. a hopeful thought graced his mind.

perhaps, someday, somewhere, at a less miserable time, they will see each other again.

he turned to his table, scrambling to get a paper and pen. he will not let the night go on as if it was just any other night. this darkness shined a light, one he only recognised when the girl was present. and maybe, you can call it a pathetic attempt of hope, it was the young silva watching him as his hand gripped the pen.

my loraine,

i will remember you longer than i knew you, and i will never come to terms with that.

thus, i will find you when you return, even if you are a thousand years late.

give me your permission and i will continue to love you in another. believe that i will run amock across the universe until i find you.

and so, when you see the world ending in the newspapers, trust that it is my work because i still have not met you again.

let us make us happen, some other time.

until we meet again,

forever your artsy

perhaps, they were right in putting love into books and poems—perhaps, it could not live anywhere else. they did say that everything will be fine in the end. and if it isn't, then it is not the end yet.

he has learned that grief is not accepting that she died. it is acknowledging that she is still alive in everything that he does.

and so he hopes—he hopes that all this grief stays with him because it is all the unexpressed love that he did not get to tell her. he will never let this go.

indeed, what is grief if not love persevering.

the pain will remind them of each other. when they meet later, if there is a later, they will recognise each other by it.

and just because this life is painful, it does not mean the next one will be.

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks @perseny @everavenclaw @datingbtr @peetahpahkah @myo11 @idek-what-to-put @aysamuka

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x oc #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton

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ickadori · 9 months

Text

++ 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎

[summary] you accompany arlecchino to a business meal.

[cws] reader wears a dress but is otherwise gn. murder. short.

Arlecchino has never brought you along on her business trips before, and would have preferred to keep it that way, but you had been insistent on coming along, lamenting that she left you by your lonesome for far too long whenever she left on business.

You had fussed and moped and she had been took it in stride, planning on returning with a few jewels to join your vast collection, along with a few other trinkets you seemed to collect for the fun of it, but then you had begun to ignore her.

Her greetings were met with silence, her kisses met with unresponsive lips or a turn of your head, and you chose to stay on your side of the bed at night opposed to burrowing into her side as you normally did.

It was one the cruelest forms of torture she had seen — the withholding of your affections.

She caved very quickly after that, allowing you to come along as long as you followed one simple rule.

Never venture away from her side.

Arlecchino was a woman with many enemies. Even if her position as a Harbinger didn’t automatically make her hated by many, her own ways in which she handled others would have surely done so. There had been few attempts on her life, most people having enough self preservation to steer clear of her, but some people had been foolishly spurred on by the promise of insurmountable amounts of moral.

Those people had quickly found themselves with their heads in their laps, the lucky ones, anyways…the unlucky ones had been turned over to Dottore so he could further his knowledge on all the different ways to make a human writhe in agony.

While she never fretted about who may be lurking around corners and waiting for their chance to strike her down (a chance that she would never give them), she did fret when you were brought into the equation.

An attempt on her life was an inconsequential thing in terms of your own, and she didn’t want to find out just how badly she’d react if you were ever hurt, or worse, killed.

“As much as I love sitting around and watching two old men whisper back and forth,” you lowly start, a bored expression on your face as you turn to face her, “I’d much rather be doing something else.” Arlecchino takes a sip of her drink, black fingers a stark contrast to the porcelain teacup in her hand. “How much longer do we have to sit through this before they inevitably do whatever it is you want them to?”

“About two more cups full of tea, and possibly a desert.” You deflate. “Need I remind you that you were the one insistent on coming along?” She inclines her head in your direction, giving only a slither of her attention to the two men sat across from the both of you. They’re Fontaine’s top researchers, secrets that are unknown to many locked away in their minds, secrets that Arlecchino plans on getting, one way or another.

“That’s because I thought we’d be doing something interesting.” You stress, hands fiddling with the sleeves of your dress, and she gives you a leisurely once over, humming to herself as she appreciates the view. “Tartaglia has told me all about the things you get up to when I’m not around, and I wanted to see it for my own eyes.” Ah, so that’s what had brought on the sudden insistence that you tag along.

“You really shouldn’t listen to all the things that boy tells you. It’s highly dramatized.” You purse your lips, and just as you go to say something you’re cut off, one of the researchers -Nil, she believes- finally stopping his discussion with his partner and giving Arlecchino his attention.

“We talked it over and while we did find the offer to be mutually beneficial… collaborating with the Fatui is something that we just cannot do!” Nil raises his voice, and Arlecchino is glad that she chose to rent out the entirety of Hotel Debord. “We won’t deny that you’ve done your fair share of good deeds for the people of Fontaine, particularly the children, but that doesn’t excuse all the murdering, torturing, and brutalizing you’ve done!”

You bristle beside her, and she takes another sip of her tea as thrust a finger in their direction. “Excuse you! I suggest you watch your tone when you speak to her, you old, senile coot.” The man beside Nil chooses to be offended next, and Arlecchino places her teacup down.

“How unfortunate that we couldn’t come to an agreement.” All parties ignore her, and she has half a mind to see how long the three of you could argue back and forth before growing tired, but then an insult is being thrown your way, and your brows are furrowing as your eyes grow glassy and…

“Nil!”

The fire starts from within, and Arlecchino clasps her hands together as blisters begin to form on Nil’s skin, the blood inside his veins boiling. He’s only able to moan in pain, hands fruitlessly clawing at his skin in an attempt to quell the flames.

“What did you do!?” His partner screeches before grabbing the pitcher of water in the center of the table and dousing Nil in it - a valiant effort it was, but ultimately pointless. “Nil—Gods, what did you do?”

A shaky breath comes from beside her, and Arlecchino turns to see you watching the sight in awe, your hands splayed on the table as you take it all in with unblinking eyes.

“He insulted my fiancé, so he paid the price.” Your eyes dart to hers, and a heat completely different from the one emanating from the charring corpse swirls in her gut. “And a fair price it was, don’t you agree?”

You blink as if coming out of a daze, and your head slowly swivels toward her. There’s a mix of emotions swirling in your eyes, but she’s studied you long enough to be able to pinpoint them all; horror, trepidation, awe, admiration, and the undying love that’s without a doubt reflected in her own gaze.

“Yes.”

It’s why the two of you fit together so effortlessly.

#arlecchino x reader #genshin x reader

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wobblesthecowgirl · 4 months

Text

I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter One: Rescue Mission

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This is my first rdr2 ff! This is also my first time posting ff on tumblr so I hope it's set up nicely! I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! I hope to make this a long series.

Chapter Two

Despite being apart of the gang, Y/n hated the O’Driscoll’s. Except for Kieran Duffy, who acted like her brother, like her partner in crime. Which was how she found herself in Horseshoe Overlook after following the Van Der Linde Gang.

She used her binoculars to get a better look. It was nighttime, so the only light she had was the moon and the warm glow of the campfire. She pinpointed Kieran, who was sitting on the grass with his hands tied behind a tree. He looked malnourished and weak. The anger upon seeing his sorry state only worsened for the woman, as she sat to think of a plan. She groaned in annoyance. This wasn’t what she usually did. I’m a sniper, she thought to herself, not a stealthy hero.

There were too many people around for her to use her actual skills, so her best bet was to sneak behind the tree and cut him loose without cause a scene. Shoving her binoculars in her satchel and making her way over with her knife in hand, she was able to get to the tree.

“Kieran!” Y/n whisper shouted, causing the poor man to jump out of his skin. He turned his head around, and his eyes widened when he saw who it was.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Getting you, dumbass.” She already started cutting at the rope, which was too thick for her knife.

“Leave me! This gang is real scary.” He pleaded, “If they catch you, you’ll end up like me…or worse!”

She ignored his pleas for her to abandon him and focused on getting the rope loose. She was halfway there, the rope almost freeing him, when she got caught.

“Hey!” The voice was low and gruff. Y/n snapped her head up to see a tall, broad man with a beaten cowboy hat on, pointing a pistol right at her. She moved away from the tree slowly, but before she could make a run for it, he shot her in the thigh. She instantly fell to the ground, screaming in agony as she held the wound in hopes to stop the bleeding. The fabric of her jeans didn’t help ease the pain as it was now sticking to her wound.

The man ran towards her, pulling her up harshly and propping her up against the tree next to Kieran, who was calling out to her, as she was tied up. He was right, she was now in the exact same position she was in.

The man who shot her was glaring as others from the gang showed up.

“Dutch!” The man called out for the ringleader, who jogged over.

“What is it, Arthur?”

The man she now knew as Arthur gestured at her sorry state before replying, “We have another O’Driscoll, I caught her trying to free our friend Kieran.”

Everyone was staring at her whimpering state. Her hair was messy from the journey over, her black button up top had been untucked from her jeans, her satchel and belt were barely intact, and her wound was only getting worse.

“Well now, she doesn’t seem like that much of a threat!” Dutch chuckled, earning a glare from Y/n.

“You shot me!” She hissed at Arthur, who seemed surprised by her feisty nature despite bleeding out; she knew it was a risky move, especially as she was becoming lightheaded.

Arthur pointed at her, his eyebrows furrowed, “Of course I did. You snuck onto our camp, trying to free our prisoner!” He then turned to a woman with black hair in a messy bun.

“Abigail, will you please tend to her wound. Can’t interrogate her if she dies on us.”

Abigail nodded her head as he thanked her, and she soon returned with medical supplies. Everyone kept a close eye on her, hatred in their eyes. An older man with a grey hair spoke up to Dutch, “Are you sure it’s wise to have another O’Driscoll on camp? Having too many may cause a riot.”

“I think this is a great opportunity!” The gang’s leader said, “She came all this way for him, so they must care for one another. We can use that against them when getting the information we need on Colm.”

Y/n’s eyes were going fuzzy, and Kieran’s cries were starting to sound far away. Abigail made her way over with the med kit; she seemed to be talking to the wounded O’Driscoll but was ignored as she began to pass out.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When she awoke again, the sunlight blinded her, and every inch of her body ached. Her arms were cramped, her neck snore, but the biggest pain was her thigh, which felt like it had been beaten and set on fire. She looked down to see the wound had been disinfected and sewn up, and the fabric had been cut a little to get to it, leaving her thigh exposed.

“Y/n! You’re awake! Oh, I was so worried!” Kieran’s voice caught her attention, who sighed with relief; he was stood up, most likely to stretch his legs.

“I’m sorry.” Were her first words to him, she stretched her legs out in front of her and winced as a sharp stabbing pain went up her leg.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault you got shot, and now you’re a hostage too.” He also apologised, a sympathetic look on his face which matched that of a kicked puppy.

“Hey, don’t go crying now.” She warned him, rolling her eyes like she always did. He nodded his head but looked away, probably to go against her request. However, her attention was diverted to the very man who shot her, as he strode over to her.

“You’re awake.” He stated, standing in front of her, making her look up at him from her seating position. He must’ve been at least six two and built like a brick house. Either way, she wasn’t winning a physical fight against him any time soon.

“I appear to be.” She stated, deciding to be cocky. If she was going to die, she wanted to die with her dignity and sarcasm. He clicked his tongue, clearly not impressed with her quick remark.

“I wouldn’t get smart if I were you. Someone in your position can’t afford to be arrogant.” He folded his arms as she scoffed, shaking her head.

“My position? You mean shot in the leg and tied up? If anything, I think this calls for sarcastic remarks towards the very man who put me in this predicament.”

“I hope you talk this much when I ask you about Colm.” He sighed, rubbing is eyes and placing one hand on his hip. She went quiet, realising being shot and tied up were probably the start of a long, antagonising death.

“Well don’t get quiet now.” Arthur snapped, but she looked away from him, receiving a small groan from the older man.

“We can start of easy.” He began, “What’s your name?”

Still facing away from him, she replied, “Why should you get the honours of knowing that?”

“I can see that wasn’t an easy question.” The irritation was laced in his words as she refused to cooperate. She looked up at him again, who had an impatient look on his face. It seemed he wasn’t going to leave till she answered.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She mocked, the same irritation in her words. He shot me, why should I make this easy for him?

“Are you a child?” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing but still answered her, “Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

She hummed after hearing his name, and then fell silent. The wind picked up, causing Y/n’s hair to get messier, and creating goosebumps along her skin. The man sighed before walking towards Kieran who instantly cowered. Her once bored attitude was no more, now she was on high alert.

“Look,” Arthur began, “I ain’t gonna hit you, I don’t hit ladies. But I do hit men, and you clearly care for this one. If you don’t start talking, he’s gonna get hurt, and you don’t want him to get hurt, do you?”

She watched as Arthur swung his leg back and kicked her friend hard on the shin, causing him to crouch down in pain and wriggle his bound wrists.

“Alright! It’s Y/n L/n! You asshole!” She spat at him, trying to get the man away from Kieran. Arthur smirked and made his way back over to the woman. Oh, how I would love to smack that smug look off his face.

“There we go, that’s much better. Well Miss L/n, you wanna tell me where Colm O’Driscoll is hiding?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t care to share that type of information with me.”

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word she said. All she could do was nod her head, not bothering to develop her answer further. Arthur shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself. The longer you put off telling us, the longer you go without food.” He stated before turning around and walking off back to his tent, leaving Y/n to glare daggers at his back.

“This is real bad. I’ve gone days without food, I can’t take it much longer.” Kieran made sure Arthur was gone before her conversed with her. She tried moving her leg again, but the pain was unbearable.

“Just you wait Kieran. We are going to get out of here, and I’ll make sure I snipe that man right between his eyes. Whatever you do, don’t tell them anything. We won’t be able to go back, we’d be hung for selling Colm out.”

Kieran rested the back of his head against the tree, looking dead ahead.

“I don’t think I want to go back.”

“We don’t have a choice,” She exhaled, “We would be hunted down if we tried to be lone wolves. We are bound to the O’Driscoll gang till we die. Let’s just make sure our death is merciful.”

With that, the two captives fell silent, watching the rest of the campers go about their day: eating, doing chores, and laughing with one another as the days ticked on.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 community #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x you

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zeebreezin · 2 months

Text

A Reputation of Some Importance:

Months of planning have gone into this moment. You stand atop one of London’s crooked rooftops, and wait for a ship to pull into dock. The sensation of standing atop a precipice strikes you, of a hundred men scattered across the continent and beyond at your back, of the people you know will venerate this day, even if they never know you. You can almost see it, the Moonlit Chessboard’s spectral pieces sliding across the Zee. Power courses hungry in your vines. White is in Check. Your move. This action will define your reputation, for better or worse. Be sure you’re ready to do this.

A Chancy Challenge Your Watchful + A Player of Chess quality gives you a 55% chance of success.

-> Let It Be Enough.

Checkmate (success!)

The plan is a delicate one. Weeks were spent on the bait alone, engineering a craze for cut rubber jewellery that would lure the Belgian King to celebrate the sudden influx of wealth, stolen from their colonies’ resources & the people that slaved for them. A Reckless Playwright and their many Trendsetting Sycophants become pieces on the board, and soon the tasteless trend takes hold. A few in Brussels convince their king to descend, to shake a few hands below, a show of solidarity with a weak and grasping city. And so, it begins. Matadi, Mombasa, Luanda, Khartoum. Written games of chess are carried through the jungle & across the savanna, moves marked by the banks of the Nile. Forces inside the Congo and out are ready. The reports of the atrocities are drafted, journalists arriving in Brussels while the Belgian King descends below. Once the news is confirmed, the word will break. The Belgian King descends in an amusing display of poorly concealed exuberance. He does not stay for long - a party, a conversation with a few of the Ministry, a nod from the Traitor Empress. It’s unnecessary to your plan, but you seek him out. The disguise of house staff is an easy one to wear, a decade of training sliding on like a second skin. You say nothing to him, of course. But you look him in the eye. You trust only one Licenatiate for the job. The Ravenous Acumen has never failed you when it comes to methods of death, and the toxin is a precise thing. Applied delicately to the stem of a wine glass at the Belgian King’s last meal within the Shuttered Palace. He sets zail hours after. The poison will not kill for hours after application, a corrosion of some core drive leading to lethargy while at zee. It’s the timing that’s critical. Too early, and they risk the ship turning back towards London, towards palace doctors who will know what they see. Too late, and the toxin will be deemed impossible under the sun’s law, and be rendered inert. You see the White King tipping back in your dreams for days, slowly, slowly, slowly. The Belgian King lapses into unconsciousness just after his ship enters the canal. He is dead before the water bleeds into surface tone-blue. No cause of death will be found, laws bent against the forces of the White. No poison could do this, of course. He passed peacefully, in his sleep, and none above will know the agony he died in. Lawmakers arrive home to chaos, to demands for liberation. Belgium will try to hold the colony, of course, those far from the scene. You’ve catalogued their dreams, scandals, and left a bounty for the opportunists. Dossiers left in convenient locations, a flank unguarded. Red will snap up the blackmail, and break their front further. A willing and necessary sacrifice. But the Congo will stay free. All these things come to pass far from your cluttered study. The pieces fall one by one, and now others make moves of their own. Your work is far from over, and it may never truly be over. Much was lost for this, but much will be gained. So many, so far from you now, may finally know freedom, and that knowledge is as heavy as it is peaceful. Those in Wilmont’s End breathe whispers of a Tenebrous Rook, of the unknown that struck down a king. You raise a toast, alone in your study. Is it enough? Have you done enough? Have you earned what you have gained? Would she forgive you, for what you had to do to get here? On this night, at least, you know the answer.

#zeeposting #august shaw #my fic #fallen london oc #b #the ravenous acumen #<- mentioned #LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO #Leopold's ass is DEAD #black WINS #chessboard W!!#Im very excited I've wanted to write this out for a while :)#sorry for being ominous 2 a few of yall in the meantime #GAH #HE DID IT #you useless deadbeat you :)

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wavypotatochips · 1 year

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i have something in my mind

could you write kylian having an important meeting but readers at home and she’s sick and she calls kylian but he doesn’t answer and when he comes home he sees her like she fainted or she’s very sick?i need some comfort kylian , 😊 thank you

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐛𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Kylian Mbappe x Female Reader

Word Count : 1k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: Ugh I love 'comfort someone who is sick' scenarios, they are always so cute to me (': Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you like how I conveyed your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Request are temporarily unavailable, ILY mwah mwah ♥

You're lying in bed, feeling absolutely terrible. Your head is pounding, your nose is stuffy, and your body feels like it's on fire. You know you need more medicine to help with your fever, so you grab your phone to text your boyfriend, Kylian.

You type out a message asking him to bring you more medicine. You wait anxiously for a response, but none comes.

You start to feel frustrated and helpless. You're in so much pain, and you need his help, but you don't want to seem too needy as well. You try to distract yourself by watching TV or reading a book, but you can't focus on anything.

As time passes, you start to feel worse. You're so uncomfortable, and the pain seems to be getting worse. You decide to try texting Kylian again, hoping that he's finished with whatever he is doing and can come to your rescue.

But once again, there's no response. You feel like you're in agony, and you don't know what to do. You start to worry that something might be seriously wrong with you. You try to call Kylian, but his phone goes straight to voicemail.

You're feeling so alone and helpless, and it's making you even more anxious. You wish that you had someone to take care of you, but you know that Kylian is a very busy man and you don't want to bother him.

Meanwhile, Kylian is in a very important meeting with Nike, discussing a collaboration that could potentially skyrocket his career to new heights. The room is filled with executives, all intently focused on the discussion, their eyes trained on Kylian as he presents his ideas and strategies that he has been meticulously working on for months. He is confident and articulate, impressing everyone in the room with his creativity and expertise.

As the meeting reaches its final stages, Kylian's phone vibrates loudly on the table, interrupting the otherwise silent atmosphere. His phone is upside down, so he cannot see who is blowing up his notifications. He lets out a small laugh in front of the executives and reaches for his phone, apologizing for the interruption, and quickly silencing it.

As the meeting comes to an end, Kylian turns on his phone while walking back to the car. The notifications are coming in slowly since the phone has restarted, but he sees there are multiple missed calls and messages from you. He tries to call you back, but there is no answer. He feels a growing sense of concern, wondering what could be wrong. Kylian calls again, but there is still no answer. He starts to worry that something might be seriously wrong now and quickly gets into the car, practically speeding to the house you two share.

As Kylian drives, his mind races with all the possibilities of what could be wrong. He remembers that you mentioned feeling a bit under the weather starting last night,, but he didn't think it was anything serious. Now, he starts to wonder if he should have taken your symptoms more seriously. Before turning into the neighborhood, he is stopped by a red light, causing him to groan in frustration. He picks up his phone and goes to the messages, finally seeing all the messages you sent hours ago. He feels terrible for not being there for you.

Once the light turns green, Kylian quickly stops at a local CVS to pick up medication. Luckily, it is nighttime, and there are not many people out, so he is able to use the self-checkout without any delay. As he rushes home, Kylian's mind is filled with worry and guilt. He hopes that he can make it up to you and provide the care and attention that you deserve.

Kylian's heart pounds in his chest as he frantically searches for you, his mind racing with worry. When he finally spots you in the living room, his heart sinks at the sight of your weakened state. You look so pale and fragile, as if a gentle breeze could knock you over. He rushes to your side, setting down the medication and taking a seat beside you. He gently places his hand on your forehead, feeling the heat radiating from your body, realizing that you have a fever. Kylian's heart aches at the sight of you in this condition.

You let out a soft groan as Kylian's hand brushes your forehead, sending sharp waves of pain through your head. You slowly open your eyes, feeling Kylian's concerned gaze on you. You try to speak, but he quickly silences you with a gentle shake of his head, "I'm so sorry, my love. Stay still and let me take care of you now." He leans down to kiss your forehead lightly, being sure not to cause any unnecessary movement.

Kylian's sole focus for the next few hours is taking care of you. He knows that you haven't eaten all day, and so he prepares some porridge for you. He carefully places a small amount in a cup and brings it over to you, helping you sit up so that you can eat. He even adds your medication to the porridge, knowing that it will be easier for you to take. You are extremely nauseous, but Kylian remains calm, reassuring you and helping you take the medicine.

Once you've finished eating and taking your medication, Kylian scoops you up gently in his arms and carries you to the bedroom. He places you softly on the bed, making sure that you are comfortable and have everything you need. Throughout the night, Kylian remains by your side, checking your temperature, bringing you water, and comforting you with soothing words. He feels guilty that he wasn't there for you earlier, but he is determined to make up for it by being the best partner possible.

Eventually, the medication starts to take effect, and your fever begins to subside. You drift off to sleep, with Kylian sitting beside you, holding your hand, feeling grateful that he can be there for you when you need him the most. As the night wears on, Kylian's focus remains solely on you, forgetting about his work responsibilities and everything else. His only concern is your well-being, and he is willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you recover quickly.

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isa-ghost · 8 months

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Fuck it, Possessed qPhil headcanons

Hi! Welcome to the headcanons that started my fic Awake Me From My Nightmare. You might've heard of it. It's so surreal revisiting these several months later and seeing how they've developed in the story.

It starts out slow. Little quirks that pop up or intensify and sail over his head. They're harmless, or seem justified after all. Like his impulses to steal shiny or neat things activating more often. His aggression towards threats like the Purgatory workers or Feds growing to proportions usually unlike him. It flies under his radar, and under the radar of everyone closest to him. Ender King is methodical and careful with the start of it all, and it works. His influence begins to fester inside Phil more and more over time.

The process of the possession is the worst part. It stings like dragon's breath. Every nerve in his body is on fire, his wings in ten times the agony as they're already so sore. His eyes flash between their usual ocean blue and a fierce, foreign, violent purple. Blink and you'll miss it, but his pupils occasionally thin into draconic slits. The hallucinations get worse, so much worse, and so much more vivid. He loses track of time so easily, hours worth of it. The progression is convincingly sentient, it strikes when he's alone like it KNOWS he's vulnerable and there's no one around to witness the way it tortures him, temporarily immobilizing him as every inch of his body burns and aches like it's soaking in acid. His own tears start to vaguely sting and splashing his face with cold water in an attempt to ground himself is a MISTAKE. Oh god, he's in so, so much pain... And that's what makes him succumb in the end. He can't take the burning of his wings anymore.

He feels.. so.. hollow. So empty inside. Like this deep, inconceivable void has opened up inside him and is devouring every inch of his being until nothing is left. And... it feels so right. It feels so deserved...

No, this is definitely deserved. All that guilt he felt before is gone. That must mean this is him finally being punished for all his failures, right? For being so weak?

He doesn't want help, he's perfectly fine. Why are you looking at him like that? Please, as if you could do anything about this anyway. Don't make him roll his eyes. You couldn't fix this even if he let you. You think you stand a chance against him, The Angel of Death? You'd never win.

His temper is so unstable. He snaps at people he'd never snap at. He yells, he never yells unless it's in jest or at the Feds. He lashes out. He'd NEVER seriously lay a hand on any of the others. He'd never so much as genuinely threaten them. What's come over him? And why won't he answer the others when they ask?

He isolates. He deserves to be alone. Also he can't be bothered with those two needy children, can't a man breathe for a bit? This infection inside him festers more and more, the longer he's away from the things that could tug at his heartstrings or prod at his memory.

So many things have become a blur. Did he say that? Did he do that? When did that happen? What's this "abueli" sign mean? Who's this "Missa" you speak of? What do you mean we're friends? I've never met you in my life. I think I'd remember being friends with a man with a mechanical arm.

The sunlight hurts. It hurts SO much. Keep it off him, keep it away from him, don't bring him outside.

His insides feel like they're withering. He can't eat, it comes right back up. Even bending down or moving certain ways hurts. It's like he's shriveling up and decaying from the inside out. No he doesn't need help.

The longer you watch him, the more obvious it becomes that he's fighting a parasite inside. And it's agonizing to watch. There's nothing you can do, you don't even know what's wrong with him, and he won't tell you. But he can't hide the way he's losing control of himself. It feels like you're watching him die right in front of you. The immortal you've always thought of as both an unstoppable force and unmovable object. Dying.

The moments of clarity are the worst. The way awareness hits him like a brick. He's abandoned Chayanne and Lullah for who knows how long. Has someone taken them under their care in his absence? His friends have seen him in such a pathetic, terrifying, unsavable state. He's mortified. Has he hurt anyone? What destruction has he wrought? Where has he been? How long has it been since he was last in control of himself?

He can't bear looking people in they eyes anymore. Even looking them in the face is a challenge. It borderline disgusts him. It makes him viscerally uncomfortable.

He's terrified to see his reflection. He knows the changes aren't all in his head. They aren't just behavioral.

Something startles him. Suddenly he's on the roof of the nearest building, or in a tree. But... he didn't shoot his grappling squawk. He didn't even have the tool in his hand. Did he just.. teleport?

He doesn't startle again. He is no longer flight, he was never freeze. He is always fight. Even when it's unnecessary, even when it's an ally that surprised him, he swings. He almost immediately comes to his senses every time & quickly moves so he misses. But there's no mistaking that those swings are intended to be precise and lethal.

His vision starts to change, like the way the world looks when you possess an enderman in spectator mode. It's a gamble if his vision is normal or not every time he wakes up.

Eventually he stops sleeping though. And stops talking to Rose. Stops showing up at the Sanctuary. Chayanne & Lullah keep going though. They've been talking to her, desperate to find a way to bring their Papa back into control for good.

He stops eating too. Ender King He doesn't need to. He's slowly becoming a skeleton of himself. How.. ironic, given the Ender King's state last Phil saw it in person.

It's convenient that depriving Phil of sustenance and sleep makes him weak enough to keep controlling with ease. :) It keeps him too weak to resist. :)

Phil always has a shred of awareness of his situation and surroundings even when Ender King has full control. He knows the harm being carried out by his hands. He knows the vile things being said with his tongue. The guilt is so unbearable. He wants it to stop. But he's so weak. And this is his punishment for being weak. He doesn't deserve to break free of this possession until he can do it himself. But the longer he stays under, the weaker he gets...

The longer he's subdued, the more convinced he becomes that this is deserved, escape is futile, all is lost and it's hopeless. But is that him thinking that, or one of the many ways EK is keeping him complacent? Preying upon his insecurities and flaws. Stupid greedy insecure old crow.

The above doesn't mean he isn't going out of his way to make being possessed as difficult as possible though. He's inconveniencing Ender King EVERY step of the way. He didn't want this, and no amount of overthinking his way into believing he deserves this will make him forget that.

When it's finally over, he has nightmares for MONTHS. It wouldn't surprise him if they were chronic. He doesn't tell anyone but Fit, and he doesn't tell him all of them.

It takes a long while after he's been saved for him to remember water no longer hurts him. He avoids it like the plague. Every time he even hears water moving, all he can think about is the way it stings worse than falling in lava.

The social part of recovery after it's all over is the worst. The guilt and shame make him want to hide and never talk to another person again, yet he can't stand being alone. He gets too paranoid.

Other Phil headcanon sets:

Set 1

Set 2

Set 3

Set 4

Set 5

Set 6

Set 7 (Eggza Edition)

#qsmp #qsmp philza #q!philza #philza #qphil headcanons #AMFMN things

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perpetualexistence · 4 months

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Sea Monster AU: Agony of a Sea Witch

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It sure has been a while since I've made a post for this AU, hasn't it? I know I said I would get this done in time for Mermay. But it's only technically two days away, so I consider this to be Mermay in my heart. That and it's Pride month so now this is just my contribution of incredibly toxic yaoi to Pride month!

What's with the song choice you might ask? And the title? Don't worry about it. Noah'll be fine. Probably.

But yeah this is like 3.5K words so I hope you guys enjoy my blood sacrifice Sea Monster AU update!

Content warnings: Murder mentions, toxic relationship, Alejandro being manipulative as per usual

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With his new body comes new risks. He can't afford to have his legs suddenly turn into tentacles on land. It'd be even worse if they transformed in front of Alejandro. So he's not leaving this cove until he's convinced he can leave it without instantly outing himself.

He starts with turning his legs to tentacles and back. A lot of it has to do with wanting them to transform. Which is good because otherwise this would be a pain.

As the adrenaline fades away, he's more cognizant of how weird it is to feel each leg split into four separate limbs, and then come together again. He shudders at the sensation, but over time he gets used to it.

It takes him all night until he's finally comfortable enough to make his way back home. He sneaks back in at one point only to be caught by an older sibling. They express their concerns about his recent behavior. He manages to get them off his back for now, but they're clearly still worried.

It's summer break at this point, so Noah has plenty of time to learn more magic. He lies to his family about taking summer classes so they don't question his time away. He tells the same lie to Alejandro so that Alejandro doesn't insist the two spend more time together.

That lie he's much more worried about. Not only because Alejandro is more volatile, but also because he knows that Alejandro is going to ask him about how his revenge went.

The intent lie Alejandro believes, so he won't have to explain why he did it. But he'll have to lie about how much he enjoyed it to cater to Alejandro.

Except it doesn't really feel like a lie. Because there's a part of Noah that knows he did rather enjoy it. When his mother asked him whether he was getting a job over the summer or staying at school, he almost admitted right there that he wouldn't need to get a job. Their biggest money problem is gone.

Noah has been considering a lot of people 'problems' now. It's easier to feed a problem to a ravenous sea creature than a person. He knows, on a logical level, that this is wrong and is a very concerning line of thought. But he's been through so much that he feels like he's done more than enough to earn it.

When he goes to talk with Alejandro, the large eel does pick up on his hesitation in taking pride in his kill. He's...surprisingly sympathetic towards Noah's reluctance. He admits that doing it in cold blood for the first time hits a lot harder than simply watching it. It's not something for the faint of heart.

It's why Alejandro was so happy that Noah was willing to try it out. Once you get over the morality of it, it's such a delightful, vindicating experience. Alejandro would love to be there one day to witness Noah finally let loose. Noah deserves it, truly. However, Alejandro won't force it. He's not that crude. If Noah does want to go further down the path of might then Alejandro will be happy to guide him along. Until then, Noah can take his time with it.

Noah leaves that conversation with zero suspicions from Alejandro, but so many questions. The way Alejandro phrased it was oddly sweet and felt like an earnest attempt to comfort him. But it was still encouraging murder. Even if it was arguably justified. And satisfying.

At least it made it clear that shrinking Alejandro was the only way to go. Once he was less dangerous, Noah could figure out what to do with him after.

But first of all he's got to figure out this new body of his. Knowing how to switch between human to cecaelia won't mean anything if his new tentacles keep slapping him in the face every time he tries to use them. Or using suckers to attach onto rocks when he did not mean for them to get adhesive. The retractable fangs are rather annoying since he keeps cutting his tongue with them. Not to mention the excessive amount of saliva that seems to come with it.

The most difficult part is learning how to operate eight lower limbs instead of two. It's also the most exhausting. Chef's training had done little to improve his endurance. Even worse since he's underwater where his whole body feels sluggish.

Slowly but surely, he starts getting better at swimming with his tentacles. He doesn't have the finest control over them, but he can swim with them and go in the direction he actually wants to go in. He isn't sticking to everything he touches with his tentacles, either. He considers that progress.

He'd still like to know how being an octopus was supposed to protect him from a giant electric eel. Sure, he can swim better now. That doesn't do much against someone who can easily outpace him. Or just zap him.

He knows the basics about octopi. He knows they can make ink clouds to confuse their enemies. Which might work for about five seconds until Alejandro goes around the small cloud. The more useful thing is the ability to camouflage. It'd only work when standing still. But if the ritual to shrink Alejandro means he has to go out to open waters, he NEEDS a way to hide himself. He wouldn't be able to afford Alejandro catching him collecting something, or worse, with tentacles.

Through trial and error, Noah finds out that his whole body can go invisible, not just his tentacles. All the better for him. He anchors his ability to camouflage with his desire to disappear. It's an easy feeling to pull up. He usually wants to stay out of most interactions, and his desire to get away from all of this is enough to get him invisible. The harder part is stopping it. Because it means letting go of the feeling. Noah can't really calm down to let go of it because Alejandro has him on high alert at all times. He just forces himself to think of something else, and it works.

All of this is just taking more time away from preparing the ritual. He hasn't even had the chance to read over it properly. He very badly wants to jump the gun, but that'll risk getting caught in a body he can barely control. But being unprepared for the ritual, and the lives it'll probably require given this book's track record so far, is also a huge risk. And during all of this, he's still going on hunts with Alejandro. Risks all around, and Noah feels like he's this close to snapping completely when he's pulled in different directions.

So when Owen sends him a text asking if he wants to hang out over the summer? You know what? Sure. Why not?

Noah deserves a distraction from all the things he's putting himself through. Is this distraction also risky? Yes. But it's not as if he's going to go out in the water with Owen. There's plenty to do in this incredibly isolated town that only advertises its incredibly visible beaches with the extrovert who has constantly been inviting him to going to another yacht party in Alejandro's hunting grounds.

God Owen would be so screwed if Noah wasn't setting up Alejandro's menu.

At least Owen doesn't push so much into what's going on in Noah's life once Noah makes it clear that's not happening. It's nice to actually have the ability to say no. Not the illusion of choice Alejandro brings. It's easier to forget all the things he's done when the most he has to worry with Owen is avoiding a nose milkshake.

Well, there is the fact that Owen is also still insisting on Noah coming along to group hangouts. More people means more lies and more suspicion. But it also means more chance to be in the background conversation. Not do anything.

Noah misses not having to do anything. So against his better judgement, he says yes.

He lets himself get swept into the hurricane that is Owen, Eva, and Izzy. He appreciates Eva not asking any questions from him and just letting him exist. Plus watching her go off on people is fun. Izzy, for all the rabid energy she brings, is more than happy to make all the choices for what they're going to do. He's more than happy to just let her. Owen's both enabling all the chaos and making sure everyone's doing great. He doesn't question Noah wearing a scarf during the humid, sweltering summer. He just scoops Noah up when the heat exhaustion starts getting to him.

And Noah? He's just there. There's no expectations that he does anything. He snarks and they don't complain about his personality.

It's such a nice break from all the murder and deceit. It takes away from the time he could be spending to solve this problem. But if he doesn't give himself this he's pretty sure something's going to snap inside of him. So he fits it in between the magic and the hunting and the hanging out with Alejandro that the eel still insists on.

Hanging out with Alejandro does make hunting more bearable. And Alejandro more bearable. Alejandro still enjoys reading with Noah and bringing him smaller treasures.

Still, now that Noah's started to hang out with other people, he can how conditional spending time with Alejandro is. There's a stark contrast between being with people who could kill you on accident with their shenanigans, and being with someone who would kill you on purpose for trying to pull shenanigans.

It nags at him. Constantly. He doesn't want it to. He wants to relax for once in his life. He can't have that with Alejandro like this. He needs to stop distracting himself. No matter the cost, he has to go through with this. He's done too much now. He just has to keep playing this game a little longer.

He doesn't realize Alejandro's picked up on anything until they're on their way back from a hunt.

The conversation started off simple enough. Noah was making snarks about the people Alejandro had thrown into his gullet. They were long past having any sanctity for the dead.

Alejandro was pushing the boat that was carrying Noah along...and then he began to slow to a stop. They were nowhere near the shoreline. It was just open waters.

Noah asks what's going on. He's trying to sound as casual as possible. Maybe if he keeps faking it, he'll actually begin to calm down.

Alejandro promises it's nothing major, really. It's about a few things that have been bothering him, that's all. He's noticed some new things about Noah.

At first Alejandro thought they were great changes. He does find Noah's scarf cute, and he's very fond of Noah's new interest in Alejandro's passions.

But he's also noticed that their conversations have started to become more awkward. Like Noah isn't completely there for the conversation. He's just curious about what could be on Noah's mind.

Noah's immediately concerned as he now has to come up for an answer for this. It's just him thinking about school, that's all! And the whole murder thing! Giving that serious thought. That's the only thing on his mind.

Alejandro smiles at Noah. He wants to believe Noah. He does. But there's one other thing that's bothering him.

Noah's scent.

The day after Noah came back from his first kill, there was something new to it. Something charged. And salty?

It's very strange. Alejandro was willing to be patient for an answer from Noah. To an extent. The real problem, though, are the newest scents on Noah. They're all human scents. From different people.

Noah would have to be especially close with these humans for an especially long time for their scents to intermingle. Yet Noah hasn't mentioned anything about other humans. Given what happened the last time Noah was getting close with other humans, Alejandro is very interested in knowing what explanation Noah has for this.

Noah knew he shouldn't have let Owen bear hug him so much. Or let Eva carry him around no matter how convenient it was. Or let Izzy constantly invade his personal space. Even though the only way that he could have stopped any of them would have been not to be near them at all.

This was on him, really. For letting himself get distracted. Now he has to figure out what to tell Alejandro. If he tells the truth, he'll be dooming his friends. Alejandro will force him to make an impossible choice. It's what he always does.

He's racking his brain for something, anything to get him out of this mess. Alejandro is waiting for an answer. He does not want to be in this situation. He would give anything to get out of this situation. To just disappear.

"Que es esto?"

Noah looks up to see Alejandro looking down at him. There's some mix of confusion, horror, and anger in his eyes. It's worrying since Noah hasn't given a response yet. His eyes are also darting around Noah. Around?

Noah brings his gaze back down to the boat to figure out what Alejandro is looking at.

Then he looks down to realize that on instinct, he's camouflaged with the ship.

Oh.

No.

Noah's body acts before he can think twice about it. He jumps into the water. Staying on that boat would be a death sentence. At least this way he has a chance at getting away and figuring out SOMETHING.

He knows Alejandro is calling for him and he doesn't care. He's never transformed while invisible and he doesn't want to take any chances now. He's barely gotten any distance until he feels the hairs on his arms raise.

Invisibility means nothing to electrolocation.

Noah is grabbed and is pushed away from the surface. Noah lets out a shout as air bubbles escape him. He switches to using his gills since Alejandro wouldn't notice those anyways. He has a clear view of the fury on Alejandro's face as they swim deeper.

Alejandro demands an answer NOW. He won't return Noah to the surface until Noah shows himself and agrees to explain. Alejandro will keep him here until he drowns if he must. Because he needs to know how Noah knows magic.

Noah thrashes as he tries to get out of Alejandro's vice-like grip. Alejandro doesn't know about the gills, but he'll figure it out eventually. The most he can do is buy himself some time. He's terrible with coming up with plans on the spot but he's got no choice to learn through trial by fire.

He refuses to respond. Speaking would expose his gills. He can hide somewhere and wait Alejandro out if Alejandro thinks he needs to go to the surface for air.

Alejandro is still demanding an answer. How does Noah know magic? That would explain the new scent, but not where Noah got it from. Alejandro has scoured these waters thoroughly. He's the only sea creature here.

So how? And why? They've been having such a good time together. Alejandro didn't even know he could enjoy spending time with a human. Yet he waited with bated breath for Noah's visits. He had been looking for every excuse to keep Noah alive when he fully recovered from his journey here.

Then, when Noah suggested these hunts-

"What?" Noah asked. Holding his cards to his chest be damned. He could NOT let Alejandro try to make Noah out to be the bad guy.

"When you suggested the hunts." Alejandro repeated. He seemed too agitated to even notice that Noah shouldn't be able to speak underwater.

"I didn't suggest them! I never asked for this! You made it clear it was help you or die!"

"I never said you had to help me. I only said you had to give me a reason to let you live."

And no. No, that's not how that worked. That can't have been how that worked. Noah can remember the threat on his life.

"You made the offer to help me hunt all on your own. You could've offered only to spread my legacy and I would've accepted it. You chose to be just as vicious as me. And I was so delighted that you chose me over your own kind."

That's not how that happened. Because if it was, then Noah could have avoided all of this. If it was, then Noah might have been able to reason with Alejandro from the beginning. Noah wouldn't have any blood on his hands. He would still be a good person. Instead of whatever he is now.

It takes more effort than he dares to admit to keep his voice flat. "If it was a choice this whole time, then why didn't you tell me?"

Alejandro paused for a moment. He looked like he wanted to search for Noah's expression. There was none to give with the camouflage. "I thought you'd be happier this way."

How dare Alejandro? How dare Alejandro?

He can't stack the cards against Noah and then blame Noah for not playing the game right. He can't say Noah could have communicated better when he was the one who made Noah feel as if he couldn't say anything at all.

Months of pent up aggravation are bubbling to the surface. He wants Alejandro to hurt. He wants Alejandro to bleed. It's the only way this monster will understand the extent of what he's done to Noah.

Noah feels the transformation happen, and he welcomes it. He's revealed as legs become tentacles. The blue rings on his tentacles glow bright and fierce. He can feel Alejandro struggle to re-adjust his grip. Alejandro is transfixed by the glowing rings. Good.

He uses his tentacles to push at Alejandro's hand to give him room to escape the grip. It's working somewhat. It gives him enough room to sink fangs deep into Alejandro's finger. This was for every time the damnable thing had ruffled his hair. Every time he was given a playful pet or a light jab. Every agonizing moment of patronizing.

He can taste when he pierces through the skin. He keeps going. As hard as he can. Noah's saliva is pouring into the open wound. It's small, but it's something.

Alejandro shouts in pain but doesn't let go. Noah can see the water around Alejandro's tail crackling with frustrated electricity.

Then, Alejandro's grip loosens. Noah bursts out of it. Finally, his sacrifice was good for SOMETHING. He tries to swim away from Alejandro's range.

Alejandro uses the same hand as before to block Noah's escape and bring him back to face the merfolk. Noah is expecting to be squeezed again and tries to get off of Alejandro's palm before it happens.

He does escape. Alejandro's hand closes around where Noah had just been a couple of seconds ago. Alejandro looks...confused. His hand is trembling. He reaches for Noah again, but the hand is slower this time. Much easier to avoid.

"What...what did you do to me?" Alejandro asked.

Noah's rage is marred with confusion. Alejandro's arm slowly falls to the side. Limp.

That's when it clicks for Noah. He'd never looked up the exact species of octopus he was. He'd been far too preoccupied with other matters, and he thought it would never come up. Yet here he was, with glowing blue rings and a bite chockfull of saliva.

Except it was never saliva. It was venom. And now they're both finding out how deadly Noah had made himself.

The fear in Alejandro's eyes is satisfying. Noah's finally managed to turn the tables on him. Even if he never wanted it like this. The plan had never been to kill Alejandro. Just to contain him. Alejandro would have killed him if he thought he had to. So whatever's about to happen is just going to happen.

So long as he keeps telling himself this, he can ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

He can't ignore the gray mass of flesh barreling towards him.

Of course.

Noah should have realized it was always going to end like this. He's not going to be fast enough to outswim that tail. He's been martyring himself this whole time. Might as well go all the way. At least the few people he cares about will be safe from his stupid, horrible mistake.

His last thought is wondering if there ever was a way this could have ended differently.

The tail hits him. Electricity courses through his body.

He screams, and it goes dark.

(For all of you curious, Noah's a blue-ringed octopus! I would have shared a picture earlier, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise in case you knew about it already. Here is a lovely little picture of an incredibly deadly octopus the size of a golfball that can kill a human in minutes!

#sea monster au #total drama au #total drama #total drama noah #td noah #total drama alejandro #td alejandro #td alenoah #total drama alenoah #alenoah #giant/tiny #noah td #alejandro burromuerto #horror au #tw toxic relationship #cw toxic relationship #total drama horror au #td horror au

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