#sobbing with real tears and snot and everything

[sqtorux]

they just get each other

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hiii!! I saw your requests were open & was wondering if you could do a hurt/comfort vi x f!reader (romantic but could be platonic I don’t mind). Reader could be from the undercity and have similar experiences w vi so they relate and understand each other on that level. Not rlly sure what the angst could be but there’s a lot of canon to work from (like maybe vi sees smth that reminds her of her time in prison? Or smth idk), and reader is there to like, comfort/ground her. Like overall vi has a shitty time but has someone in her corner to listen/comfort her and maybe give her a hug yk? Anyways tyyy!

Sure I can! Enjoy!

To Be Loved

Vi hadn’t seen you in so long, at least, that she can remember. The alcohol did that.

All she remembered now was the shame of you finding her in the cramped apartment, after seeing her brutal pit fight.

The blood coating her knuckles, the makeup and black hair dye. But under it all, it was still your Vi.

Your hands cradled her off the floor, and she couldn’t understand why, but the feeling of your hands on her skin once more, brought tears.

“Oh, Vi…”

“I’m- I’m so tired, (Name)…I can’t-“ Vi cried, snot rubbing onto your shirt as she sobbed and gripped onto it with all the strength she could.

“I couldn’t protect her- I let him down… I let everyone down.” Vi insisted. It was unspoken of the people she spoke of, their names were never said out loud but it was practically screaming.

You told the stories, shared the memories and the pain, but never said their names. It made it real. It seemed like it was barely hitting Vi just now…

That her life would never be the same. Powder wouldn’t come home after playing with Ekko, Claggor and Mylo wouldn’t be clambering around on the floor, and Vander would never call them for dinner in The Last Drop.

Ever again.

Her family was gone.

The realization made her ugly sob into your neck, the sound crackling throughout the room as you held the back of her head and rubbed her back as you both sat on the ground.

The ring was her way of punishing herself. To feel the pain in her mind she had caused Powder, caused Jinx and Vander and Mylo and Claggor, even Ekko.

“You didn’t fail them.” You insisted, shaking your head as you shushed her cries and holding her to you. She tried to rebuttal, shaking her head but you simply pulled back.

You cradled her face in your hands, the look on her face so similar to seven years ago.

You mustered up your best smile and shook your head as you wiped her tears and she stared and cried at the feeling.

“You were a kid, Vi. Nothing was your fault.” You whispered gently, pressing your forehead to hers. Your lashes almost tickled her cheeks, almost mixing with her tears as she sniffled.

“Vanders proud of you. Powder…she’s not dead. She’s still here…” You whispered softly, your hand faintly ghosting over her heart.

Even if Powder changed, no matter how much she rebutted her name and past, grew her hair and grew taller, she couldn’t rid herself of the prescrnse you and Vi had on her life. She was still Powder. Just different.

“I hurt her.” Vi stated, trying to avoid your gaze. You frowned, looking her over for a moment as you saw the shame. She never wanted to hurt Powder.

“You love her.” Was all you could offer, pressing a gentle kiss to your loves forehead as she closed her eyes.

Everything inside her hurt, everything was aching and she hated herself. She felt guilty for indulging in your comfort, in taking it.

But even if everything was falling apart, her home, you, was still standing.

Your soft hands cradling her, your lips ghosting over her cheeks, her nose, her lips, her forehead and brows and lashes…she couldn’t help but drown herself in it.

She held onto you. Gripping your shirt and fisting it between her fingers as she hid herself in the comfort you provided.

In your comfort, Vi knew she would be okay.

The steady beat of your heart just made it all the more real. The hands that cradled her made it all the more real.

And you sealed it with a kiss.

[00-jammy-00]

Yan!Worshipper HC’s

Yan!Worshipper x GN! Deity! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, murder, this is mostly smut, nsfw mentions, cult themes, one of my most pathetic yans, he kisses your feet, slight pet play, spanking, he has a collar and leash

A/N - I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for a while. I lost motivation for a little bit and felt ashamed with a few of my works. I’ll be working on more requests as of now <3

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Yan!Worshipper who got a bit sloppy over time. Running a small cult was still so much work! Keeping the followers in line was the worst of it though. The disgusting rats couldn’t help but want more. Greedy pigs.

Yan!Worshipper who just had enough at one point and started killing off the ones who irritated him. One of them kept asking to see you all the time? Buried. Another would stop donating? Hung her limbs above the doorway until they rotted.

Yan!Worshipper who tried his best to keep this small secret from you. He didn’t lie to you though, he could never. So when you finally found out, he was a teensy but emotional.

Yan!Worshipper who got on his hands and knees sobbing as he pleaded for forgiveness. Snot and tears streaming down his face while he ungracefully dry heaved. “I’m sorry my light! Hic! I didn’t mean to cause you any harm! I’m so sorry! You’re my everything! Hic!”

Yan!Worshipper who followed your orders immediately when you told him he was going to be punished. He crawled up to you and kissed your ankle, whispering apologies. He slowly took your shoes off and kissed from your feet up to your thigh before looking up at you through teary lashes.

Yan!Worshipper who, in no time, was bent over your knee naked with a red ass. Despite the harsh slaps against him, his dick leaked onto the sheets below, his shaky voice counting each individual slap.

Yan!Worshipper who let out a sigh of relief when you stopped spanking him only to stiffen when you pulled out his specially made collar and leash. He whined as you pulled him by the leash across the halls fully nude on all fours. Followers knew better than to stare for too long at the sight.

Yan!Worshipper who made it up to you by pleasing you for hours, worshipping every part of your body a hundred times over while whimpering. The word ‘sorry’ didn’t even sound real as it continued to fall from his lips. Would he stop killing these ungrateful slugs after this? Of course not, why would he?

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[str4ngergirlw0rld]

Eddie’s sobbing is a muffled, haunting sound in your ears. You swear you can feel your heart pounding out of your chest. The weight of feeling invisible, hurt, and utterly worthless presses down on you. The urge to reach out to him, to comfort him as you’ve always done, is overwhelming, but you’re powerless to act.

“Fuck, it’s all my fault, fuck!” Eddie’s cries are raw, filled with guilt and desperation. You thought you understood why he was crying, but now the confusion and fear make you question everything. “Eddie, what’s wrong?” you ask timidly, your voice trembling, afraid he might lash out at you again. His head snaps in your direction, eyes wide with panic.

“I—I put you in this position, baby! You’re fucking dying because of me!” Eddie’s voice is frantic, his tears mingling with snot streaming down his face. “I can’t—I can’t stop the bleeding. What the fuck, baby, I’m sorry! I’m trying, I’m trying so hard, just hold on for me, please!” He’s pleading, his sobs wracking his body as he reaches for the radio on his hip, hoping Wayne will know what to do. As he speaks, he sees the bright red blood staining his hands, realizing it's yours.

You can only assume it’s your blood causing his panic, but you need him to know it’s not his fault. “Eddie, baby, stop. It’s not your fault. I swear, it’s not your fault—”

“No?!” Eddie interrupts, his voice cracking. “Then how did this happen, huh? How did you end up like this? Was it some mysterious god I don’t even believe in? Shit, baby, yes, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.” He clutches the radio, his hands shaking violently as he cries out for Wayne. The radio crackles before Wayne’s calming voice comes through.

“Wayne, please, please help me. Y/N is bleeding out, I don’t know what to do, Wayne, please,” Eddie sobs, his voice breaking. You can no longer speak, too weak to form coherent sentences. Your vision blurs, the darkness encroaching upon you. You can feel the coldness wrapping around you like a heavy, suffocating blanket. In the distance, Wayne’s voice tries to soothe Eddie.

“Eddie, put pressure on her wounds. Eddie, Eddie, calm down.” Wayne’s voice grows stern and darker. “Eddie, this is your fault.”

Eddie’s eyes drop to you, seeing your lifeless form, your eyes shut and mouth slightly open. The realization hits him hard: you’re dead, and it’s because of him. The sky outside reflects his turmoil—red and angry with lightning flashing ominously. He kneels, holding you close, desperately praying this isn’t real, questioning why he pursued the bats instead of staying with you and Dustin. It’s his fault you’re gone.

Your dream of Steve and Robin dancing in Scoops Ahoy outfits is shattered by a loud whine from across the room. You sit up, squinting in the dim light from the TV, now showing static. As you look around, you see Max and Lucas on the lazy boy, Max’s glasses slipping off her nose and Lucas’s arm draped loosely around her waist. On the sectional couch, El and Mike are sleeping, El’s mouth slightly open and Mike snoring close to her face. Dustin and Will are sprawled on the floor, covered in thick comforters. Nancy and Jonathan are in the guest room upstairs, and Robin is sharing a bed with Steve.

Eddie is curled up in a ball on the pull-out bed, his blanket strewn on the floor. His bangs are matted to his forehead, and his body shakes violently. You quietly get up from the air mattress Steve gave you, careful not to wake anyone else, and tiptoe to Eddie.

“Eddie, Eddie, wake up,” you whisper, shaking his shoulder gently. “Eddie, Eds, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Your voice is soothing, trying to offer comfort without startling him. “What’s wrong with him?” a voice asks suddenly, making you jump. You turn to see El, her hair messy, looking concerned.

“He’s having a nightmare, babe. I was just trying to wake him up,” you explain. “Oh,” El replies. You give Eddie another gentle shake, and his eyes snap open. He looks at you and El with a startled expression and immediately curls up tighter, burying his head in his knees. You and El move in sync, wrapping your arms around him to offer comfort. El’s arms encircle him, while you gently cradle his face and shoulders, trying to lift his gaze.

Eddie finally looks up at you, his eyes bloodshot and red, his face streaked with tears. Your heart aches at the sight of your best friend in such distress. “Eddie, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare,” El says softly. Eddie nods, thanking her and placing a kiss on her forehead, telling her to go back to sleep. She hesitates but leaves when you give her a reassuring look.

“Eddie, let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, leading him to the bathroom. He follows silently, his pinky linked with yours, his tall frame towering over you. You gesture for him to sit on the toilet.

“I didn’t know you were having nightmares, Eddie. Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, washing your hands in the sink. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he replies, his voice hoarse.

“Worry me? Eddie, you worried me when you almost died a few months ago. You worry me when you close off. I just want to take care of you. You’re my best friend. I wish it had been me instead of you. It should have been m—”

“Don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence, Y/N. Don’t. It’s not your fault; it’s mine. I’m responsible for keeping myself safe, not you,” Eddie’s voice cracks.

“Yeah? Then why are you pushing me away? You’re sure acting like it’s my fault.” Tears well up in your eyes, your voice choked with emotion. “Listen, angel, sit.” Eddie guides you to sit on the edge of the bathtub, taking both your hands in his. He brings them to his mouth, holding them close as he speaks through sobs. “I never told you because the dreams are too painful. It’s not your fault. I keep dreaming of you dying in my arms. It’s unbearable to see your face, not when all I see is your soul leaving your eyes.”

“Eddie, you could have told me. I’ve always been here. I’ve been here, I’ve been right here, Eddie. I thought—I thought I lost you. I thought you hated me. I couldn’t handle that, not when I love you more than anything. I’m so in love with you, and you put me through so much pain, baby. I just needed you to talk to me,” you say, your head hanging low, tears streaming down your face. The pain of his distance and silence becomes clearer to you, and you finally understand why he was so distant and why he left you in the dark.

Eddie lifts your chin to meet his gaze, his eyes reflecting your own anguish. “Fuck, I love you too, baby. I love you so much. Why do you think this was so hard for me, huh? I thought I kept losing the love of my life. Baby, I couldn’t handle that.” He presses his forehead to yours, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, his voice filled with regret.

“Look at me, baby,” Eddie pleads. You lift your gaze to his eyes and then down to his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.

“Yes,” you reply. His mouth finds yours in a fervent kiss, his tongue sliding past your lips to meet yours in a grateful and passionate embrace. After what feels like hours, you finally pull away, both of you breathless and teary.

“I love you, baby,” Eddie says, his voice tender and filled with relief.

“I love you too, Eds,” you respond, your heart aching but full.

After cleaning his face and him cleaning yours, you walk hand in hand back to Steve’s living room. Eddie heads towards the pull-out bed, while you make your way back to your air mattress.

“Eddie,” you call softly.

“Yeah, baby?” he replies.

“Come lay with me.”

“Ugh, thank fuck. I don’t think I could sleep without you, even if I wanted to,” he says with a sigh of relief.

He immediately bounces onto the air mattress and buries his face in your chest. Your fingers find their way into his curls as he kisses your stomach and rests his hands gently on your sides.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you,” he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your belly.

“Goodnight, angel. I love you too,” you respond softly.

That time , Eddie falls into a dreamless sleep, comforted by your presence and the reassurance of your shared love. not caring what looms the corner of his mind. you love him with his scars with his imperfections. thats all eddie cares about.

[qiwoomi]

officially yours (his)

gojo satoru x fem! reader

fluff, established relationship, marriage, modern au, slightly suggestive in the end

a/n: idk how long it's been, almost about a year but I'm back again. this time school isn't an obstacle anymore :] wrote this while seasons - wave to earth is playing in the background

If years ago you're telling the Gojo Satoru you would marry him, he would tell you it would be a dream out of reach. Because back then, he's not confident in himself to make someone as beautiful- inside and out as you happy. It might be because of his rough past, and he didn't want to risk you going through it as he doesn't want you to get hurt.

You are too delicate, too fragile that he's sure that he doesn't deserve you. Hell, he would even risk letting someone else have you if it meant you don't have to go through a single trouble that he always endures. Though he's used to it by now, but you don't.

So how is it possible that here he is, standing on the shoreline of the vast ocean of your dreams, his shoes a little drenched and stained with sand. But never mind all that. His eyes are on you, teary and red though it won't fall. His lips are trembling, he wants to say something, but he knew that he would be sobbing and he promised himself that he won't ruin the ceremony that unite both of you in sickness and health.

There you are in your white wedding dress, your dream wedding dress, as you held the bouquet of flowers in your hand, keeping up a smile even though you're also on the verge of tears. Your eyes are blurry, but your father guided you to him, letting go of you as you're now standing in front of each other.

You allowed yourself to sniffle. Geto then starts doing the speech and declaration to officiate both of you in your wedding day, Satoru's eyes never fell from yours.

It's time to declare each other's wedding vows, which you anticipate. Satoru fixed his bow tie nervously, as you smiled.

"[Name], my love, my heart, my life, my everything." He starts, and his voice already cracked which earned a few laughs from your families and friends. He was full on sniffling, nose red as the first drop of tears stained his cheek. "First of all, I want to thank you a lot for everything you've done for me. Taking care of me even when I'm whiny and clingy, even though I stained your shirt with my snot as you patted me to sleep. Always being there to comfort me because you know that I'm not fine, even though I insist I am. You always knew before me, and this is one of the reasons why I fall in love with you." He manage to make through the first paragraphs, as onslaught of tears stained his cheeks again.

"Oh my god, I'm crying." He accidentally slipped into the mic, as chuckles are heard again. He's trying to wipe them off with his sleeves now. "Does anyone have a tissue?" He sniffled, as Geto handed him a q-tip. He tried wiping his tears with them, as it didn't do as much. "What does a q-tip gonna do? I need a tissue." He sniffled again, only realising the tissue in his breast pocket when you pointed them out.

"Ah, thank god." He sniffled, as he tried to compose himself while wiping his tears. Now the audiences were laughing, which makes you laugh too even though you're also about to drown in tears. "Okay." He cleared his throat, lifting up the paper in his view which is stained by droplets of tears.

"I'm sure that even if I continue listing them down, words wouldn't be enough to express my love to you- because it runs deep. And it is dangerous, at least this is what I thought when I was so young and naive, still learning what real love means." He sniffled. "But I got addicted to it, you're too addictive that I'm sure the thought of you will never go away. Everyday I wake up, I'm thankful that I even get the chance to be with you. And I try to make it last, even though temporary, these fleeting moments is my motivator."

He inhaled, before reading the next last paragraph. "My love, I want you to know that this has been my dream for the longest time. And to see and experience myself to be officially yours is a dream come true. I'm yours, always yours from the start and eternally. I promise myself from the start, and I want you to know that I'll always be with you no matter in sickness or in health, in the hardest days of your life or the easiest. I love you wholeheartedly in all versions of yourself. My heart, I have devoted myself to you, and should you think that I'm not, I'll always remind you through my actions. I love you, my [Name], my wife now and forever."

Gojo Satoru managed to finish, his tears are now at bay only for it to stream continously again when it's your turn to recite your wedding vows. It is safe to say that Gojo Satoru cried more than you, and he took 1 to 2 business days to process your marriage before finally going back to his 'normal' safe. And you love him all the same.

bonus:

It was late on your wedding night, after making love with him. You laid on his chest, catching your breath as he caressed your hair, his eyes on the ceiling as if lost in thought. It was quiet, but you love it.

"My love?" He starts, his eyes now on you, admiring your features. His hand on your hair is so comforting, that it took you a second to answer him. "Mhm? What is it baby?" You asked, looking up at him with sincereness and love in your eyes.

He pouted, frowning a little. Whatever it is that's weighing on his mind, you want to make it go away. "I'm sorry for ruining our wedding. I just can't hold it- you know. I never thought we would go this far." He mumbled, as you now start cupping his face, making him look into your eyes.

"Hey, it's fine. You know, I love that you're not afraid to show your true self. I love you. You make the wedding more memorable." I reassured him, speaking softly that he might even fall asleep to my voice.

Satoru didn't answer, though it's evident he's happy to know your thoughts now that his frowns and pout go away. "I love you too. You know, we're not even done for the night." He teased, now going back to his 'normal' self.

You slapped his chest playfully, though there's no denying it when your cheeks are flushed.

a/n: this is inspired from one of the videos I came across on ig (iykyk) I wish I copied the link but I lost it ☹️ the video literally screams satoru and you can't fight me.

EDIT: HERE'S THE LINK GUYS!!!

© @qiwoomi

est. 250324

do not copy, translate or repost my work.

[repulsiveliquidation]

without you || Ona Batlle

warnings : angst w/ happy ending, i promise. mentions of illness and death. based on the poem above. enjoy :)

last night you were in my dreams

looked me in the eye

god

it felt so real

her side of the bed’s empty. there’s no note left for you in her pretty writing. her car is gone from its place next to yours in the driveway. her pillow smells so much like her, it’s almost like she’s still here. the tears. you hate the tears. they fall without your permission. they wet your pillow, “I’m sorry,” you whisper, the lump in your throat made it hard to swallow.

you roll over to her side of the bed, the cold sheets solidify your loneliness. Ona’s gone. she left this morning, bags seemingly packed for such a long time that there was a little dust bunny at the back of the closet from where she hid the duffle bags.

the sun shines into your room just a little, the window left open from the night before. you had shared a glass of wine there, laughing so loud that the old man who lived across from you yelled for you two to go to bed. his wife scolded him and apologized for his behavior, blowing you a kiss and a promise of fresh pastries she would send you the next morning.

you opened the front door and there they were, neatly packed in a little basket. they were Miguelitos, Ona’s favorite. tears filled your eyes again, picking up the pretty basket with an unsteady hand. the old lady calls from across the road and you force a smile, voice breaking when you yell a thank you in a terrible attempt at Spanish. she smiles and nods anyway, watching as you tread back into the house and she sees you wiping a tear away.

they’re still warm so you leave them on the kitchen uncovered. you call Jonatan and tell him you feel like, faking a sniffle that he doesn’t buy but he gives you the day off anyway. suspiciously, Ona calls him not three minutes later with the same excuse. normally you’d call and tell him you were both under the weather but separate calls raise flags in his mind.

you crawl back into bed and begin to sob, hot tears staining your cheeks and pillow. you pull her pillow close to your chest and try to calm yourself, knowing it was no use when all you wanted was your girlfriend to hold you close and tell you everything was going to be alright.

she had done this two times before. Ona was a perfectionist, a master of her craft. every pass, tackle, dribble, and kick had to be perfect. one loose ball that was her fault meant another hour on the pitch perfecting the pass till her toes hurt from kicking the ball. the first time you had to physically throw her over your shoulder and drag her home, having a strict conversation with Alexia as she cleaned up. you made her promise to take her health seriously or Alexia would wait for the green light from you to be benched until she bucked up.

the message got to her head for about six months until a badly timed tackle earned her a second yellow of the game and the send-off. she ran off the pitch in anger, lashing out at Vicky who was comforting her as she walked off. you were on the bench with a little ankle sprain and waddled after her with Alexia, Mapi, and Pina in tow. you were ready to give her an earful when you heard muffled sobbing in the changing room. you told the others you would handle it and they backed off, faces full of concern for their friend.

“Ona?” you called, walking into the room slowly. she wiped her tears away, trying to look like she wasn’t crying. she refused to raise her head, eyes fixed on her muddy cleats.

“Amor, it’s just me,” you comfort, sitting beside her and rubbing her back. she flinches but leans into your shoulder, crying into your pressed shirt. you rock her a little and let her cry it out, gripping your coat tight as she shook in your arms.

“shh, it was just badly timed princesa. it happens.”

“I’ve let the team down, they need me…” she cried harder, snot running down her face. you reach into your pocket and pull out some tissues, reminding yourself to ask the girls which one of them stuffed it into your pocket. you wipe her face and kiss her nose.

“the girls are fine, we’re five goals up with ten minutes to go. we’ve got this game in the bag.”

“but the next games…”

“should give you a chance to rest and regroup. you’ve been working yourself to the bone again.”

“I’ve been sloppy at training, I can’t afford to make mistakes!” she yelled standing up and storming into the showers.

you lean back and decide to give her some space to breathe, hearing the loud chattering of girls high off another win and a clean sheet. you smile and congratulate them, not wanting them to worry about their teammate. Ona comes out from the showers second to last, hair wet and cheek rosy from the hot water. you sit in her cubby patiently waiting and she kisses you.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she apologizes, fiddling with her fingers. you nod and smile at her, standing up gingerly since your legs have gone numb. she changes and you notice that she’s got one of your ratty t-shirts on and your training sweats. you shake your head and walk out the door, yelling that you’d have the car warmed up for in the front in five.

she scrambles into the car and relaxes into the seat, muscles visibly melting into the warm upholstery. you drive leisurely back home, the Barcelona sunset to your left. Ona snores in the passenger seat softly, not even waking up when the scent of the Chinese takeout you pick up fills the car.

she rouses when you park in front of your house, feeling the familiar cobblestone that you have to drive over just before bringing the car into park. she smacks her lips and feels your lips press a soft kiss on her cheek.

“We’re home, my love.”

she smiles and stretches her arms, climbing out of the car sleepily. you’ve brought all the bags into the house, already cleaning out her kit bag. she rummages through the bags of food and smiles when she smells her favorite. maybe taking a break wasn’t such a bad idea.

it was as if you were here again

deep down inside me feel

Ona locks herself in her room. the sheets feel foreign, itching her skin. you always had the softest sheets, catering to her sensitive skin. the bonus was that they always smelled like you and she made sure to take deep breaths when you changed the sheets every week.

the room smelled stale too. an expected circumstance since she was rarely over here anyway. your house was closer to the pitch and she already had half the closet to herself, why make the trip every time?

there was a knock on the door about twenty minutes after she got home. she knew it was Aitana with a billion questions but all she wanted was to be alone. really she wanted to be with you but she’d fucked that up. she didn’t even know why she ran, the pressure of performing was becoming too much and she didn’t want to be a burden. she couldn’t bear to see that look of disappointment she saw glimmer over your face when she got her first red card with Barça.

the banging on her bedroom door was what woke her up hours later. Aitana mentioned breakfast in the oven and coffee in the coffee pot before the front door slammed shut. she checked her phone and there was radio silence, half hoping that you had left an angry voicemail telling her to come home. instead, she was met with her wallpaper of you holding Coco over the summer at her parent’s house.  

tears pool in her eyes as she scrolls through her camera roll, swiping through all the silly photos you made her take that night. she threw her phone on the bed and screamed into the mattress, hoping deep down inside she was braver in another lifetime.

and when the light came to wake me,

and you slowly starting to fade away,

my soul was longing for you to take me,

Ona walked onto the pitch three days later, heart aching to see you. she stepped onto the pitch and spotted you talking to the girls, Ingrid slapping you on the back laughing at a joke Mapi told the group. she decides to avoid you, too cowardly to face the music. you notice her and smile but she turns away quickly, busying herself with her laces. you decide to try and corner her at the end of practice you do, needing the help of the girls to keep her from running to her car the moment Jonatan blows his whistle.

“why did you run away like that, Oni?” you ask her quietly, the rest of the team filtering out when Alexia begins to shepherd them outside.

“it’s none of your business,” she growls, tears flowing down her cheeks as she packs her kit bag. you grab her shoulder and she turns around with anger seething in her eyes. you’ve never seen hatred in her eyes before, it was unlike her; unlike your cheerful, noisy, playful but shy girlfriend.

“Ona? what’s gotten into you?” you ask, feeling tired of all the secrets she’s been harboring. for weeks you’ve been concerned about her odd behavior. she’s been making frequent visits to the medics, getting off practice earlier and staying longer sometimes, random trips to the ‘store’ for hours on end. you thought that she was planning something since your anniversary was coming up and she liked to make a big thing about it but when she left that morning it hit you that she was probably preparing to leave. this time though, it was for good.

it's her third round of dialysis this week. Ona sat in the lumpy chair of her dialysis center when her doctor walks in.

“how does it look, doctor?”

“it’s fourth-stage renal failure, Ona. you need a transplant or else you’re never playing football again. frankly, I don’t know how you’ve kept playing this long.”

“Jonatan knows.”

“I see,” he says and sits. “does your girlfriend know?”

“she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“did you decide that for her, or did she have any say?”

Ona looks up at him in shock. she tries not to jostle the machine as she sits up.

“How did you know?”

“you looked like you didn’t want to believe it when you said it.”

“she deserves better than,” she gestures to the machine, “this.”

“she deserves you,” he says and stands. as he walks away and Ona is about to cry, he turns and clears his throat. “she’s donated blood here before, she’s a perfect donor match.”

Ona tries to cry into her palm quietly, the weight of her decision bearing down on her shoulders.

but instead,

i must live without you,

for another day.

you wake up feeling groggy, and the sound of steady heartbeats fills the room. there’s another heartbeat that deep down sounds familiar and it puts a smile on your face.

a chilling call from Jonatan put you in this hospital bed. he explained that Ona needed a transplant and that you were a perfect match. you cried in his office, body shaking with anger at yourself more than at Ona. you knew that it ran in her family and that her age was when the onset was. the extra visits to the doctor and ‘shop’ trips all made sense now. you punched a wall on your way out dramatically, crying like a baby all the way home. you barged into her house, Aitana following behind you like a puppy.

“so you were just going to run and wait for you to die?” you yelled at her, body shaking in fury. she just stared at her fingers, fiddling with the end of the throw blanket in her lap.

“answer me!”

“you don’t deserve this!” she screamed back, tears running down her face. “you don’t deserve someone who is dying to be your girlfriend!”

tears flood down your cheeks and you hear her door click closed, Aitana in front of it.

“you had no right to decide that for me, Oni!”

“I couldn’t put you through this. if I don’t get a kidney soon, first it’ll be football then it’ll be me!”

“I know I’m a match.”

her head whips up to look at you so fast, you’re sure she’s gone and given herself another ailment.

“no.”

“I’m a perfect match, Onita.”

“I could never ask you to do that!”

“you’re not asking if I’ve already asked them to make sure it goes to you.”  

“Bebé, I–”

“no, you would do the same for me. I love you too much to see you like this,” you kneel in front of her as she sits on the bed, feeling overwhelmed. “Please, Oni,” you beg with your head in her lap, “Please let me help you.”

Ona wakes up and looks over at you, sighing in relief that the surgery was a success. the nurses have pushed your beds close enough together that you stretch your arm out and she does the same, fingers laced together with an unspoken promise to face every challenge that comes your way the only way you knew was right; together.

[vxm1tcxre]

“what does it look like”

It looks like garbage bags painted with the muted, slimy, unappealing colors of the food in your pantry. It looks like the silvery sheen left on the water even after you’ve flushed. It looks like shaking fingers with the cuticles chewed off. It looks red. The red of your knuckles, the red of the vessels in your teary eyes, the red of bl00d crusted under your fingernails, the little red steaks that come out of your throat when you’ve abus3d it just a little too much. It looks like piles of dirty dishes and empty wrappers in your room that you move around and stack together to try and make it seem like there’s less than there really is. It looks like hands smeared with snot and tears. It looks like ruined makeup. It looks like half-eaten food that just barely missed the coffee grounds or milk or applesauce next to it in the garbage can.

“What does it sound like”

Gagging. Sobbing. Chewing. Crunching. Boiling. Sizzling. The crinkle of wrappers. The hum of the microwave, the opening of the fridge door or the creak of the pantry that lets you know you’re back here again. Screaming but only inside your head, screams no one can hear, screams you lock behind your slowly-r0tting teeth. Silence. The silence after you’re done with the b1ng3 or you’re done with the pvrg3 where you just sit and think about what you’ve done, taking a second before you finish what you’ve started, delaying the inevitable. The music you put on to cover it up and the music you put on to comfort yourself through each repetitive day, the music that understands in a way you can’t imagine anyone would. Lies. Those words you utter to everyone around with the guilty tinge of dishonesty that only you recognize.

“What does it taste like”

Everything. It tastes like everything. It tastes rotten and dirty and bitter and repugnant. It tastes nostalgic and beautiful and relieving and delicious. It tastes like eating something and knowing what it tastes like when it comes back up. It tastes like coffee in the morning and carefully-measured meals as you tell yourself you’ll get back on track. It tastes like disappointment. It tastes like failure. It tastes bland on your burnt, acid-ruined tongue. It tastes like the water and baking soda you swish around to try and minimize the harm. It tastes perfect like nothing you’ve ever had and you don’t want the taste to leave even if you know it’s festering inside of you and turning you into a monster.

“What does it smell like”

It smells old. Pungent. Sickly-sweet. Dairy that’s curdled with st0mach acid. It doesn’t smell like much because you’re blind to it now, and it barely spends enough time in your st0mach to take on the sour tinge of real pvk3. It smells like the candles you light and the perfume you use to cover it up and try and feel normal, to make your bedroom stink less like the corpse you’re becoming. It smells like sm0ke swirling around and breathed out your window. It smells expired but you still eat it because it doesn’t matter anymore.

“What does it feel like”

It is pain. Pain even when you aren’t feeling pain because the emotional pain of just being this way is a pain that fills you. It’s the twist in your gut when you h3ave on an empty stomach, not quite believing it to be so, wanting to be sure. It feels like the weak ache in your head and chest like TV static when you stand on unsteady legs, the dread that comes knowing you’ll have to eat something again in order to feel normal enough to burn whatever c4l0ries you left behind. It’s the feeling of a horrendously bl0ated stomach whenever you even try to eat normally because you’ve ruined your digestive system and you have to cope with how disgusting it is to be full. It’s a pain in your throat like it’s swelling closed, acid flooding your chest and esophagus, sores on your lips and acne on your chin and an ache in your head that just won’t go away. It’s guilt for everything that’s so horrendous you can’t imagine ever forgiving yourself

[gravehags]

hold me now

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: Teen

Tags: couple fight, well less a fight than copia fucking up supremely, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, anxiety, secondo once again being a real one

Words: 2,587

Summary: You've never heard that tone from Copia before period let alone directed at you.

a/n: copia baby your anxiety and freeze response...

~~~

He can feel the headache coming on, throbbing right behind his eyes and the base of his skull from staring too long at spreadsheets and numbers and stupid fucking emails from his fellow clergy members. 

Sister Imperator on his ass, like always. Nihil on his ass, like always. You’re pacing back and forth in front of his desk, chattering animatedly about…he’s not even sure, all he can focus on is the static in his brain and the blood rushing in his ears and the noise of your voice and–

He barks your name once. That’s all it takes to have you stopped in your tracks, slowly turning to face him. When the next words out of his mouth come sharp like a whip crack, he sees you physically recoil.

Enough. Quiet.

Immediately he’s filled with regret as he watches you back away towards the door, fidgeting with your fingers. He knows what he needs to do - what he needs to say - but he’s paralyzed with fear and exhaustion. His mouth opens but no sound comes out.

“S-sorry,” you say, your voice uncharacteristically small and high, the way it gets when you’re holding back tears, “sorry I’ll just–”

By the time he reaches out to you, still unable to speak, you’ve already got your back turned to him and he watches you leave and shut his door with a gentle snap. In an instant he forgets about his headache, about the stressors, about everything that isn’t the horror that settles in his belly like lead. He wants to get up, go after you, apologize on bended knee but he just…sits. 

Sathanas, what have I done?

—

You’re proud of yourself, you don’t cry until after you return to your office. As soon as the door shuts though, an ugly sob is wrenched from your throat and you collapse into the empty chair opposite your desk. You can’t form a coherent thought, all you can do is bawl into your hands and shake.

He’s done with you, that familiar, horrid little voice says. He’s finally had enough of your verbal diarrhea, of the silly inconsequential things that come out of you. He realized your mouth is only good for one thing and nattering isn’t it.

You know the wail that comes out of you is pathetic as snot and tears pour down your face and you slide out of the chair and onto the floor. Pressing your back against the desk, you draw your legs up as tight as you can, rocking gently back and forth. The look on his face - the anger, the annoyance - is burned into your memory. It’s wholly unlike your love but the fact that he hasn’t come after you…well. Clearly he meant what he said. You heave a shaky sigh and lean forward to fumble behind you for the box of tissues on your desk. It was a good run, you suppose. You always thought you were unlovable and here’s the proof. To think that he would tolerate you and your annoying habits for the rest of your lives was simply naive. 

You’re just a naive, stupid, annoying little girl.

Your tears slowly cease and you diligently wipe up the streaks of mascara on your cheeks.

You won’t bother him anymore.

—

Two days. Almost three. That’s how long has passed since his horrific outburst in his office and he still hasn’t apologized to you. The guilt gnaws at him, tearing him up, but in all truth he’s not sure how to make the situation right. And he’s embarrassed, Sathanas, looking and sounding like an irritable old man. It’s the longest he’s gone without seeing you in ages and fuck, he misses you desperately. Misses your smile, your laugh, how excitable you get when you’re talking about something you care about. Misses the very thing he chastised you and hurt your feelings for, fotutto idiota. He doesn’t blame you for not coming to his quarters or visiting him during work hours. He certainly wouldn’t blame you for being done with him, with this relationship. The lump in his throat gets worse and worse as he hustles down the corridor, tears blurring his vision. He’s nowhere near his office when he slams into something solid.

“Watch where you’re–oh, Cardinal.”

“Mi scusi,” he chokes out, dodging Secondo’s gaze and trying to hurry past him before his brother can see the streaks of black running down his cheeks but judging from the way one large hand wraps around his bicep, it’s too late.

“Copia, what is wrong?” Secondo’s voice is low and concerned as he steers him into an empty seminar room, shutting the door behind them. As soon as the latch clicks Copia lets out a whimper and then a sob.

“I hurt her!” he cries and Secondo starts.

“What do you mean you hurt her? Copia, I know you did not physically harm her because brother or not, if you laid a hand on her you know I’d–”

“No!” Copia gasps, astonished and sickened at the implication. “I would sooner cut off my own hand than raise it to her, you know this. No I-I…I hurt her feelings.”

Secondo seems relieved, but only slightly.

“What did you do?”

His lip trembles as he recalls the events of the other day to his brother. When he’s finished, Secondo crosses his arms.

“And you did not go after her? Che cazzo, stronzo?” he growls, shoving Copia into a chair. “What must she think now that her beloved was cruel to her and did not offer an apology? Copia you’ve always been self-sabotaging but this is a new low.”

Ouch.

“I…I don’t know what came over me after she left my office. My heart told me to chase after her, to make it right but I just…couldn’t move. It was like…like my brain was telling me that I didn’t deserve her in the first place so I shouldn’t push my luck. That she deserves someone…better.”

“What utter bullshit,” Secondo scoffs, and Copia can feel his face go red in shame, “You don’t deserve her? Well maybe you don’t after this but Copia she chose to be with you. To love you and care for you. And you insult her and her choice by trying to make the choice for her with your wretched behavior? Vergognatevi, Copia Emeritus.”

Copia knows Secondo is right but it doesn’t make the dull ache in his chest any better.

“How do I fix this?” he asks quietly.

“Go to her, firstly, you fucking idiot. Bring her something nice, that will make her smile. But wait until she’s back in her rooms tonight, I’m sure she’s had enough of crying in her office. And tell her how you truly feel and how sorry you are. And if she forgives you then don’t be this stupid again. If she doesn’t forgive you, well…perhaps I’ll treat her better.”

Copia’s head jerks up and Secondo looks down at him with a smirk.

“So you better work hard to make her forgive you, huh? Otherwise she’s getting a ride on the Italian Stallion, capisci?”

“Ugh disgusting,” Copia grunts, standing up, “I don’t know why I was always worried about Terzo stealing her when you’re even worse. Stay away from my amore.”

“Then you better work damn hard to make sure she remains your amore.”

“Any eh, tips?”

“I don’t know, flagellate yourself in front of her,” Secondo says, turning to leave, “She looks like she’s into that.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Copia grumbles as they exit the classroom. A passing elderly sister looks at him and jumps with her hand over her heart.

“Clean yourself up first, huh?” Secondo says, straightening Copia’s cassock, “You look like the nun from The Nun.”

“Grazie mille, shithead. I think I know exactly what to do.”

“Bene. Now get to work.” With a clap on his shoulder and a wink, Secondo strides away. 

Right, Copia thinks, first the bathroom, then Primo’s greenhouse.

He only hopes it’s not too late.

—

Two days. Two fucking days and he hasn’t said shit to you. Hasn’t even attempted to say shit to you. Your pain and embarrassment morphs into anger on the dawn of the second day when you check your phone and see no texts, no missed calls. The hurt is still there, that ache in your chest that doesn’t really go away, but you’re truly floored that he could be so casually cruel to you then act like you simply don’t exist. Maybe it’s over (and the notion makes tears well in your eyes and makes you choke on each breath) but don’t you deserve to hear it from his lips? That’s all it takes to have you sobbing again as you attempt to brush your teeth, dejectedly spitting out toothpaste into the sink. It’s early, ridiculously early to be in your nightgown getting ready for bed but every night without Copia has been agony and all you want is to no longer be conscious. You pad over to your nightstand and are about to check your phone simply out of habit when there’s a loud knock at the door and you freeze. Part of you - the petty, horrible part - considers ignoring it the way he’s ignored you. Letting him stew. But your heart is ultimately what pulls you towards the door and has you opening it. Your lip wobbles when you see him before you - in his clean red cassock, no biretta  - but you pride yourself on remaining tearless. He looks incredibly nervous and nauseated as he beholds you.

“Eh…may I come in?”

You say nothing but stand aside and gesture for him to enter. It’s not until he’s fully inside your apartment you see the healthy bouquet of lily of the valley behind his back and your icy demeanor melts a little. He hands them to you, eyes dodging yours like a fifth grader with a crush. It’s charming, you can’t lie. You take the flowers from him and he watches you carefully as you fill up a vase and place them in it.

“Kinda…kinda gives you déjà vu, no?” he laughs nervously, “Except–”

“Except you brought me orange roses the first time.”

His cheeks go red.

“Right, right,” another half a minute passes of you resting your weight on your hip with your arms crossed and him fidgeting with his cuffs. You’re about to ask him to get it over with if he’s breaking up with you when–

“Amore, I do not have sufficient words to describe how incredibly sorry I am for my behavior the other day. And then for abandoning you in the days since…not only have I insulted you but I have insulted this relationship. Our relationship. Something horrid came over me that day and you did not deserve to bear the brunt of my foul mood. I know it must mean little now but as soon as I said it I-I felt sick to my stomach.”

“You didn’t come after me,” you say, sniffling and staring ahead at the bejeweled grucifix on his chest, “I knew I really fucked up when you didn’t come after me–”

“Amore you…you think what I did was a reflection on you? That you…don’t tell me you believe you deserved this?”

Your vision is going blurry and you swear internally.

“I thought you were, y’know, done with me. Done with my chatter a-and annoying habits and–”

Copia crosses the floor and takes your hands in his.

“How could I be ‘done’ with everything that makes you…you? Dolcezza, I love all of your facets, even the ones you believe to be ‘annoying’. How could I deny anything that is a part of you?”

“Then why did you tell me to be quiet? Why didn’t you come after me? Why did you just let me sit all these days assuming the worst?”

Silence rings out in the small apartment after your last loud statement and Copia looks as if he wants nothing more than to tear his heart out of his chest and present it to you, still beating in his palm.

“Oh cara,” he whispers, “I was having such a-a difficult day. Everything had gone wrong and I could feel a migraine starting and…none of it matters. I should never have lashed out at you and I curse my brain and body for not allowing me to chase after you. There’s no excuse for what I did…for how I abandoned you these past few days and…I understand if you would like to end our relationship.”

Your heart plummets.

“Is that what you want?” you ask softly, voice cracking pathetically, “I just…I assumed the worst after you didn’t try to see me–”

A noise halfway between a sob and a sigh is wrenched from Copia as he falls to his knees before you.

“Amata mia, all I want in this world is you. Your love. Nothing else matters. Only death can rid you of me, I swear to Sathanas. Do…do you feel the same?”

Tears are freely pouring down your cheeks as you look upon the man you love and the way his eyes are upturned to you seeking repentance.

“You know I love you more than anything,” you whisper, “God, we really fucked this one up, huh?”

“Not you, amore mio, me. From start to finish this was my fault and for that I am so, so sorry. I hope you will somehow forgive me–”

You scoff wetly, looking down at him with a smile.

“Is this just what two people with anxiety in love are like?”

He lets out a small laugh.

“Heh…maybe. Surely we’re not the first. Or the last.”

“We should start a support group,” you say, letting go of his hands and gripping his shoulders, “and as pretty as you look in your vestments on your knees, you can get up, my love.”

“I would stay here forever should you command it.”

Hmm. That sounds nice.

“Come to bed with me, Cardinal,” you say softly and obediently he rises to his feet. “I’ve slept like shit without you.”

“And I you,” Copia says, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. Abruptly, you wrap your arms around him and hold him tight.

“I love you,” you murmur into the red wool covering his chest.

“Love you too, anima mia,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, “and I am sorry for everything.”

The two of you embrace one another in the quiet for a moment before you speak.

“Hmm did we just have our first fight?”

“Eh, I don’t know if it was as much a fight as it was me being a fucking idiot and you having the infinite grace to forgive me.”

“Oh, okay. I guess that rules out make-up sex, then?”

You hide your grin in his pellegrina as he makes a noise of outrage.

“Amore, anything can be make-up sex if you try hard enough. Shall I eh, call you some filthy names and get the ball rolling?”

You giggle as you tug him towards the bedroom.

“Oh, I insist, Your Eminence.”

He growls, trying his best to undo the buttons of his cassock with one hand after you lift your nightgown over your head and let it fall to the floor.

“Think I’m getting eh, a Pavlovian reaction to you using my title, dolcezza.”

You look down at the bulge in the red fabric and smile.

“I’ll be sure to remember that on really inconvenient occasions.”

He sighs.

“I know you will.”

[wishchip106]

humm what if Erik died on the beach 🤨

in a perfect world Charles kills Moira in a rage

gonna need him sobbing over Eriks corpse snot and everything man he’s losing his breath he’s screaming

everyone else: 🧍🧍🧍‍♀️🧍

but ya know they’re a bit sad about it they’re in shock

gonna need a reference to romy in xmen 97 ep 5

“I can’t feel you”

when someone finally moves they convince shaw’s mutants to take them to the mansion (they really didn’t know what to do with themselves they would do anything)

Charles is NOT doing good get him a therapist 😿

funeral time 🤪

Charles starts wearing Eriks clothes

don’t know whether Raven would leave with shaws mutants or not (start a sisterhood lol)

Charles going straight to his depression era he didn’t even start the school yet going right into the alcohol cabinet

Hank, Alex, and Sean real ones forreal

idk where this would go from here on out but like ya know major angst maybe partially happy ending? dunno could be angst through it all

going back to the beach

Charles rocking Eriks corpse back and forth whispering sweet nothings and tears are just streaming from his eyes

kissing him all over

stroking his face

begging him to come back

girl is MOURNING

[morellywrong]

Missing Out

Ethan Landry x afab reader (fem pronouns/nouns)

Warnings: stalking, obsession, Ethan's a pretty lil psycho, descriptions of murdering and torture, Ethan is actually fucked bro, reader is wearing a dress, Ethan is kinda neuro-divergent- coded (real), both Ethan and reader will be bi-coded because I said so, also some gross lil things in there for fun :)

Part 1 (?)

"Hey, y/n!" Ethan beams as he catches up to you, on your way to your morning class.

"Oh, hey Ethan...you sure are chipper this morning." You chuckle softly as he adjusts his bag strap on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I don't know, I guess I slept pretty good- I had a productive evening." He beams softly, walking alongside you, matching his usually long strides to better fit yours.

"Oh yeah, get all your work done?"

Flashes of the previous evening washed over Ethan's mind, his grin only growing.

"Please! Please, I didn't do anything!!!" The boy sobs, his eye swollen, lips bleeding and a deep gash on the side of his neck hes desperately trying to keep pressure on with his broken hand.

"...that's where you're wrong...you got in the way." Ethan hisses, his voice modulator clipped into the inside of his signature Ghostface mask, wiping the blood slowly from his knife.

"Please...please..." The boy begs helplessly, tears running down his cheeks, snot bubbling under his nose as he backs away weakly, only for his back to be met with the wall.

"Please, please...." Ethan mocks him, stepping closer, his heavy boots thumping against the concrete of the warehouse he'd dragged his latest victim to.

"No one will hear you scream...no one will remember you...not even her...youre nothing..." The boy yelled out in anguish, choked sobs becoming more and more liquidated-

Ethan snaps back to reality as he turns towards you again, still smiling brightly.

"Yeah, it was....good, I got everything finished sooner than I thought."

"Wow...maybe I should get you to do my coursework sometime." You chuckle softly, nudging his shoulder with your elbow. Heat spreads across his face as he lets out a breathless laugh, looking away.

"Y...yeah, well, maybe..." He mumbles, his dimples showing as he glances back to you.

"Oh, are you going to the frat party later tonight? Tara, Mindy and Anika invited me....Chad'll be there too..." You hum, offering the idea with a small grin.

Ethan's heart hammers in his chest, feeling that type of love sickness his Dad used to talk about with his mother.

Well. Before Wade had all his children assist in killing their mother. Ethan tried not to think about it too much.

"I...I'd love too, y/n..." He whispers, his pupils dilated so much one would assume he'd taken something to help him focus more on his studies.

Or watch the sky melt.

"Cool....uh, wanna meet at the party? Quinn offered to drive us girls there and back, since she'd got a date tonight..." You giggle slightly, even though you're glad there'll be a designated driver.

"Sure, uh, I've, uh, never really been to many parties, though. I get a little nervous in crowds." He lies, brows creased together, portraying that awkward, shy boy you know him as.

"Don't worry. You can stick with me the entire night....I don't drink much anyways..." You beam softly as you stop outside your class.

"I'll see you after Econ?" He nodded quickly, propping up on the balls of his feet briefly to try and contain his excitement.

"See you. Meet for lunch?"

"Defintiely. I heard there's pretzels today." You smirk softly as he lets out another breathless laugh.

"Yeah...." He murmurs in a slight daze as you walk into the lecture hall, giving him a small wave before leaving his sight.

He leans back against the wall, holding onto the straps of his backpack as his cheeks heat up even more, biting the inside of his cheek with an uncontrollable beam plastered on his pale face.

You had spent lunch with Ethan, sat on the grass outside one of the lecture halls, laughing together about how crappy most of the lecturers are, and exchanging mild stories about how boring your days were. But soon enough you had your last classes of the day to attend, afterwards he walked you to your dorm building.

He always insisted on walking you all the way to your dorm room, claiming it was safer.

"There's a psycho on the news, haven't you heard??" He beams playfully at you as you playfully push at his arm. He's been mentioning it ever since the first disappearances.

"Please, I'm not important enough of a target, let alone being noticed by some killer." You roll you eyes as he watches you take your keys out of your bag pocket.

Keys that he definitely hasn't got like 4 copies of each key on there. He's pretty sure one of them is just for a small indoor window, and another is to your old locker key that you still have on your keychain for some reason- even though he defintely has a copy of your current locker key.

It's the stupid little things he likes in life, after all. And something about you not caring to throw the old key out just makes him love you more.

"Nah, maybe the killer is secretly targeting you...maybe he's watching you sleep-" He grins playfully, watching you send him an unimpressed look.

"Alright, get out of here, you're not supposed to be in this building anyway...I think we'll be at the frat party at like 9, ask Chad, I'm sure Tara's told him all the details." You smirk whilst tapping the side of your nose playfuly. He taps his in return, grinning. It was no secret those two were grossly infatuated with each other.

"I'll see you later. Text me if you need anything." He responds like clockwork, a usual closing response he offers to you out of the kidness of his heart. And definitely not obsession.

"I will." You insist with a chuckle, before closing your door and leaving him beaming by himself crazily once more, rolling onto the balls of his feet once, twice then three times before he catches himself, correcting his body language quickly.

"You look so fucking good!" Tara beams, a shot or two already in her system, deciding to pregame before the party as you got ready with the other three party-goers.

She stood behind you, admiring your body as you stand in front of her bedroom mirror.

"I don't know...it's a bit revealing..." You mumble sheepishly as you glance at your reflection, at the new dress you had bought the last time you were out with the girls.

"Shut up, no one will care, if anything, it's a good thing, dummy." Mindy beams from the couch, Anika fixing the back collar of her shirt, both also a little tipsy.

"Yeah, girls and guys are gonna be all over you."

"Chad'll keep an eye on us though, he always does." Tara smiles gently as she helps adjust the straps on your shoulders, her fingers leaving a small tingling feeling against your bare skin.

"More like he keeps an eye on you." Quinn smirks from the doorway, eyeing your outfit up and down with almost hungry eyes.

"Nice dress, y/n...hey, you guys ready?" She holds up her car keys with a small shake, the metal jingling in her hand.

"Yes! Let's fucking go, girls!" Mindy exclaims, standing up and grabbing her girlfriends hand.

"Let's go!!" Anika grins brightly.

"Let's go, cmon!" Tara grabs your own hand in her's, practically dragging you behind her.

When you arrive the party, it's pretty much already at full force. Drunken jocks, flashy cheerleaders, theatre kids talking loudly in the corner, math wizz's awkwardly stood in their small gaggles. It's refreshing, in a way, to see the students enjoying themselves and taking a break from studying.

"It's fucking loud..." You mumble, glancing over at the giant speakers in the corner and the 'DJ' set up the frat house had set up for the party. Your ears strained as you winced, before gasping.

"I feel like i'm inside the fucking speaker!" Chad beams, his voice making you and Tara jump as he places a hand on your shoulder, the other on Tara's shoulder. His head appeared between you, but he was grinning at Tara.

You glance behind him, beaming softly as you spot Ethan stood there. He looks like he's already spacing out, disassociating from the crowd once he realises how loud and chaotic it was.

In reality, Ethan's zeroing in on a girl staring at you. She's one of the cheerleaders. Bitchy, blonde, ditzy, pretty stereotypical but there she is. She's whispering to her friends, gesturing towards you and smiling as they all giggle.

He's trying to figure out if she's making fun of you or if she's into you. Either way, he's going to paint someone's walls with her blood by the end of the night.

"Ethan?" He glances down at you, a smile breaking onto his face beyond his control.

"Hey! Sorry, uh..."

"I get it. I space out at parties a lot. It's jut so overstimulating sometimes." You reassure him, nudging him softly with your shoulder.

"Y....yeah, that's it! Sorry, I tend to space out pretty often..." He plays it off, before his eyes snap to your outfit- the tight dress you'd decided to wear, before he forces himself to meet your eyes, respectfully. He needed to have patience, he didn't want to creep you out or scare you away from him- at least not /yet/.

You didn't need to know about the cameras hidden in your dorm room.

"Hey, wanna grab a drink? I'll stay with you, don't worry." You offer, speaking over the music.

Ethan grinned a little more sternly than he had intended to as you playfully link your arm with his, his cheeks lighting up- he was grateful for the dark lighting of the frat party. The only real light was LED lights that blessed the room with a purple and red glow.

He glances back over the cheeleader, she's glaring at him, her knuckles tense as she grips her plastic paper cup so tight it starts to crinkle and strain. He just sent her a dark look, before walking with you to the kitchen of the frat house- where the alcohol is.

[physics-of-one-piece]

Another day, another I'll build castles for you, my love (look at me, not my brother) snippet post. And a poll for you guys at the end bcs I'm left uncertain about a scene, ie whether to put it in or not.

I reached 15.5k words on Rosinante's part, and that's not even with all the descriptions I still need to write (collapses). It consists of numerous things: his life at Marineford & meeting Reader, his friendship with his crew, proposal, wedding, married life, his decision to take on the Donquixote Family mission, and the main part of course being his 2 weeks spent with Law & Reader at the house. I'm gonna put 3 snippets here, one for Rosinante x Reader, one for Law & Rosinante, one for Doflamingo x Reader. All of them are mostly dialogue, bcs I really want to show the vibe of the fic without showing too much, and just the difference between the brothers overall.

Writing some of Doflamingo's thoughts really had me: "YOU ARE NOT IN HOLY LAND, IN FACT THERE IS NOTHING HOLY ABOUT YOUR THOUGHTS, SOMEBODY ARREST HIM OMG 😭😭" the only NSFW for now is just Doffy & his thoughts, and honestly, I'm fine with that being the only nsfw part of the fic? I'm just not yet confident enough writing actual smut, but I'll try it for them both cus they both love Reader 😤

Okay, onto the snippets:

Rosinante x Reader

“Rosinante,” you said. “I think you love your brother.”

Rosinante’s fingers paused mid-way in grabbing the empty bowl. You grabbed it instead, while he stared at you, mouth open, frozen in the moment.

You looked at him, and he felt naked. His heart was beating all around his body, and he wondered if he unconsciously put up a Silent bubble around the two of you, because everything felt so quiet, so intimate.

“If you really hate your brother, then I think it’s fine not to be able to forgive him. But, you’re a really kind person, so it looks to me like you love him despite of everything. It’s really admirable.”

“I won’t ever forgive him for abandoning you,” you said, frowning as you continued picking up the dinnerware. “He isn’t my brother, after all. To me, he’s a stranger who hurt the man I love, so I won’t be able to ever forgive him!”

Rosinante felt like his heart would explode; it was beating so fast, the thumping beats incredibly loud, resounding in his ears. He felt hot all over, and he felt himself starting to sweat.

Your expression softened when you looked at him.

“But, you’re different,” you said softly, staring up at him lovingly. You smiled at him, gentle and beautiful. “And I love that about you.”

That was it. Rosinante's body reached its limit after such words. It caught aflame from the inside, his face turning tomato red, steam exploding from his ears as the blush painted his entire face crimson.

Rosinante & Law (get ready for a gut punch)

“You’re not gonna die!” yelled Rosinante.

“Promise!” yelled Law.

“Of course I -” started Rosinante passionately, but Law cut him off.

“No!” yelled Law. He turned his face up toward Rosinante, and Rosinante felt like all the air was punched out of his gut at the sight of Law’s pleading, agonised face, his big grey eyes full of tears. “Promise if it doesn’t work, if the Op-Op Fruit doesn’t heal me, you’ll take me back here! Where I can… be with you and (Y/N)-san!”

Rosinante’s eyes widened, staring at Law.

Law’s trembling, tiny fingers clenched tight onto Rosinante’s pink dress shirt. “Promise that we’ll go to the beach every day, and we’ll have barbeque with your friends together. They’re not like them… they… they feel real.”

Law went on. “Promise we’ll eat meals together at the table, and pick cabbage and tomatoes together!”

Law… thought Rosinante, his eyes filling with tears.

“And when I start dying…” Law’s voice cracked, and he looked down, his fingers gripping tighter on Rosinante’s shirt, “when it starts killing me… I want you and (Y/N)-san to hold my hands!”

Law sobbed, his body trembling with the force of it, his snot clogging his nose.

“I don’t want to die alone!” cried Law desperately, the words coming from the depths of his chest.

Rosinante’s lips trembled, his heart weeping for the boy. His hands reached out, and wrapped around Law, pulling him close.

“Of course, kid. I promise. I promise, Law.”

“You won’t die alone,” said Rosinante, tears sliding down his eyes.

Law bawled into Rosinante’s shirt, clinging to him tight, weeping. Rosinante held him tight, cradling Law's head to his chest, hugging him close to his heart.

Doflamingo x Reader

“Your husband wasn’t a saint.” sneered Doflamingo, brows furrowed.

“Neither are you,” you replied firmly. “You were going to kill him either way, whether he was a traitor or not. Rosi chose how he would die, and it wasn’t for you.”

You continued glaring at the man swathed in the pink feathers.

It was for Law. All for Law. He wanted Law to be healthy, to be free. Rosinante wanted that so much he was willing to abandon the marines themselves, playing a double game with them and Doflamingo, fooling them both, getting the fruit for Law. Never in his life did Rosinante lie to Sengoku - the man was his adopted father, after all.

Except once.

When he told Sengoku he would stay away from the island.

Doflamingo’s smile fell, his mouth settling into a thin line. For a long, tense moment, he didn’t speak.

Doflamingo smirked, his smile curved like the moon.

“Well, I can imagine how much more it must hurt then, that he didn’t live for you.” he said, the cruel words coming out in a tone of nonchalance, folding his long arms behind his head, putting his right leg atop his knee. He tilted his head toward you, still wearing that devilish smile, and said, “He wasn’t even alive long enough to find out you’re pregnant.”

Your stomach hurt. Your heart wept.

Doflamingo didn’t give you time to recover. He went on.

“And where is he now, huh? Your marine hero? Where is my little brother to protect you from me? I’ll tell you where. Bottom of the sea. Do you want to know why I’m here and he isn’t? Because he let the marines brainwash him, made him hate me, and stuck his nose in my business. I welcomed him back with open arms, without any questions asked, and he spat in my face.”

Doflamingo spoke it all with a smile. Soon, that too, was gone. “Do you want to know why I’m the leader of the family?”

“Because I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. Because I’m not soft like my father, or my brother. Because I don’t let my emotions cloud my judgement. When there’s a problem, I handle it. If my family is threatened, I protect it, no matter what it takes, no matter who I have to kill. The world won’t bend to a fist with no weight, or a good-hearted fool.”

“And that’s why your husband is dead and you’re stuck with me.” Doflamingo sneered, his grin demonic, wide and cruel, filling your vision. “Because he was the weaker one of the two of us.”

****

Okay, so for the poll, I am indecided on whether Law & Doflamingo should meet/interact at the hospital when the baby is born, as both will be present there in that location. I'm of the thought Doflamingo would, as delusional as he is, let Law do as he pleased with the "oh, he's having an indepentant phase, I'll leave him alone and he'll come back to the fold" attitude since Doflamingo doesn't know Law witnessed him killing Rosinante. But then another part of me is thinking Doflamingo might attempt a grab for Law since Law is still 1) not as strong 2) still young and frail-looking (even despite getting a full ass growth spurt from 110 cm to 150-160 cm after healing himself from the Lead Disease)

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @daydreamer-in-training

Oh, and have this pic of how Law & Rosi would be at home with Reader if Rosi survived. (Because if I have to suffer, so do you + this is def how Law looks like in the fic next time Reader sees him after Rosi's death)

Art source

[evvyyypeters-fics]

“Just A Bird”

Kai Anderson x gn!reader (ig)

Warnings! ANGST. Trauma, allusions to cult manipulation, manipulation, abüse, infidelity, allusions to domestic abǔse, groooming, extreme psychotic break, a little hallucination, mentions of drǔgs (metaphor), Kai Anderson, not proofread

(Will cause emotional damage (real) (not clickbait))

Based on the (absolutely underrated) song by The Weekend:

6 months with Kai was all it took to break my self respect. If you asked me 5 months ago, I would have said “I’d never let a man do that to me”, with confidence.

But here I am, pleading on my knees for a man who only looked down at me with a look of disgust and boredom. Yet if he asked me to, I’d lick his boot at that moment, if it pleased him. If it made him smile at me, or praise me.

Especially if it kept him from cheating.

There she was, another figure in the shape of an hourglass, and large breasts sitting on our his couch in the basement. There were too many to count now, so they began to blur into the same shape. I could never tell if it was a different girl every time any more. They were no different to me. Even I wonder how I haven’t grown to hate this man yet, always threatening to replace me with other women. It seems everything I do is wrong, and so every day comes with punishment.

I’m beginning to regret all those pinky promises, trusting him with my stories of trouble with loyalty, and how much it meant to me. He used it as a weapon, and he practically laughed in my face about it. It was like I was addicted to him like a drug, addicted to the pain. Like somehow, I believe subconsciously being with him will help me solve my issues. If I just learned my lesson one more time, I’d get it. There was this disgusting feeling of comfort with him, even when he was looming over me as I groveled beneath him like a pathetic worm.

Hot tears burned my cheeks as I clawed at the fabric of his jeans, climbing up his calves. I could tell just how disgusting my face must look, almost seeing the mess of tears and snot, the piggish color of pink that stained it, through the mirror of his eyes. I wondered if this is how the Wicked Witch of The West felt when Dorothy melted her into a puddle. Except if Dorothy was a man with blue hair and a sadism kink.

“Please just let me fall out of love!” I beg. I swear I can see the woman in the corner laughing at me, snickering to herself at the display with a snooty look, her legs crossed and revealing the rim of her stockings, through the thick tears watering over my vision and making the world a glass painting. The sight strokes a fire in me, but when I blink, it seems she has no reaction. As if she’s sitting there with zero amusement to the sight.

“It won’t be long before I fall out of love!” The shaky words, choking and sputtering with my gasping sobs. I can barely make out the sadistic smile that twitches across his face at the pitiful display.

A grin that to my horror that only gets bigger, like a Cheshire cat.

My heart skips a full beat, thudding and pounding, when he leans down closer to my face. “Do you think you get to walk away from me?” He croons to me slyly.

“I own you, lamb.” He practically spits the words into my face like I’m some mutt he’s found the time to mercy.

“So, you can either behave, or you can watch.” He doesn’t sound angry like the other times, almost sounding like he’s impressed at my manic state. Not at what I’m capable of, but what he's capable of doing to me.

A thick sob stuck in my throat shivers out into a whimper and I sink lower to the floor, like a dog being scolded. My eyes peering up wider, the tears silently falling on their own. It was wrong, it was all so wrong. But he looked like a fallen angel with the light above creating a glowing ring around him as he stood tall, creating a pillar of a shadow before me.

“Remember, lamb. This was your choice. No one forced you to join, now it’s your responsibility to deal with the consequences of your actions.” He says it so methodically, as if it’s just a normal protocol. Like he’s my coworker reminding me of the dress code in the office. Frustratingly, he was right. I asked for this, at the end of the day. And now I was met with the karma of my actions. I knew what Kai Anderson was about, didn’t I?

So when he slid his hand around the waist of the woman he brought home, leading her up the stairs from the basement. All I could do was watch. Watch the way he massaged her hip just like he had done me, the way her too short tight skirt rode up her thighs as she walked up the stairs, or the way her hair bounced behind her back. Even the small smirk he turns to give her, his eyes flashing back at me for a moment with a single frame of judgment and distaste. I couldn’t feel anything anymore.

The tears had shaken me so dry, that all I felt was the throbbing of the blood pulsing through my veins, rushing through my ears and making my whole body pound like a drum. My face felt tight with the dry, salted tears. But there was nothing, I couldn’t even form any thought for longer than a second, all I could do was stare. Stare, and feel the flicker of a flame of hatred towards the man I once loved like a loyal dog, spark inside of me from that very moment. Before long, a flame to become a fire. A fire, to anarchy.

“You’re just a bird.” Is the only thing I could utter last, under my breath, as the door closed behind them.

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @americanwh0rerstory @xrag-dollx @lacucarachapisser @alittleobsessedbitch @n0tonlin3 @bellalove69420 @songbird-garden

[skzthelomlhehe]

Im tired. Im lonely. I feel sick. I want to sleep but I can't sleep. Its 3:30 AM. I just want someone to love me and hug me and cuddle me and tell me the world is a fucked up shitty place and just say mean things to the world because the world is mean to me. But I don't have that now, do I? So! A quick self-indulgent seungmin fic because I want comfort and I wanna talk shit about the world. Because people are shit. Except Stray Kids. And real STAYs. Hopefully I'll sleep after this.

"Can you talk shit about the world with me?"

Kim Seungmin x Reader (might not be gender neutral cuz, again, this is a self comfort fic sorta thing so feminine pronouns might be used.)

Warning: harsh words. Lots of harsh words. Being sick.

Masterlist Tags: @bluesungology @capricorn-girl0112 @daysofskz-ateez @finntastic325 @estella-novella @neginktn

Fucked up days. Fucked up weeks. Fucked up months. Fucked fucked fucked. That is ALL you can think about. Everything is going wrong. You're sick, bedridden. And you HATE being bedridden. Its the worst! The constant headaches, the runny and stuffed nose, the coughing, the blocked ears from the cold, the fever. Everything is fucked.

Sometimes you feel hot, sometimes you feel cold. "Just fucking choose, you bitch of a body!!" You curse yourself, genuinely wanting to cry.

Its 3:35 AM. You feel sick and tired, unable to sleep. The nightmares don't help. The constant feeling of loneliness don't help. You want to call for someone, but who in their right minds would just pop up at almost 4 in the fucking morning?? And even if they do, you'll just feel like a burden.

But not to him. Kim Seungmin. Your best friend. Ruthless with his words, kind with his actions. You called him and he picked up by the fourth and a half ring. "Y/N..? What's wrong..?" He asked in a groggy tone, evident that he was sleeping.

Just hearing his voice was enough. Enough to start the waterworks. "S-seungmin..." You sniffled, tears streaming down your burning cheeks.

You heard shuffling noises, probably seungmin sitting up. "Hey hey, are you crying?? The hell? What's wrong??", he asked warily. God, you loved him so much.

"I can't do this shit anymore, min..." You choked, wiping away your tears only for fresh ones to spill out. "World is so shit!! I just wanna cuddle and talk shit about the world the way it's always so shit with me." You cried, letting yourself breakdown.

"uhhh fuck, okay. Gimme a few, I'll be right there." Seungmin said, and by the sound, it seemed he was far from his phone. The call dropped abruptly and you just hugged your knees and sobbed. You've held on for too long.

A while of sobbing later, you suddenly heard your doorbell ring. Was it...? It... It couldn't be, right? There's no way.

You dragged yourself out of bed and out of your room. You were panting from the walk from your bed to the door, the fever making you lethargic.

And just when you opened the door, Seungmin walked in, holding a bag of meds, some light snacks, warm porridge and green tea from the convenience store.

"holy fuck, you look like you're dying!" Despite his attempts to maintaining his usual tone, his concern and worry made its way through. He held your face gently, rubbing his thumbs on your cheeks soothingly. "And you're burning up!"

He led you to the dining table and placed the bowl of porridge and green tea in front of you, "eat." He ordered. You were about to whine but quickly decided otherwise when you saw his glare.

You swallowed before reluctantly taking a spoonful of porridge and taking a bite. Just as you took the bite, you felt a pat on your back. Seungmin stroked your back soothingly.

The warmth of both the porridge and his soothing gesture just made you break out into tears. You started ugly crying, snot and everything. But you didn't care. Because it was just Seungmin. He might seem like he'll make fun of you, but he knows you're vulnerable. And he doesn't make fun of someone's vulnerability.

Maybe when you feel better enough to joke about it, he will. But for now, all he wants to do is give you some love and comfort. He gave you the medicines and took you to your room, laying down beside you.

"you'll catch a cold from me..." "Then I'll make you take care of me."

He pulled the blanket over the two of you, holding you close to his chest. You melted in his arms, the medicine starting to soothe you just a little.

"can you talk shit about the world with me?"

"the world is fucked." Seungmin answered, his eyes closed. "Why don't you talk shit instead? I'll listen. Im sure you've got a lot of shit to say."

You nodded slowly, sniffling one last time until the dam that held everything together finally broke.

"it's shit. Its so fucking shit. The world is a god damn whore. Like, what the fuck do you mean I have to be sick and then get an earful from people cuz 'im alwags laying around'??? Bitch, do you even hear yourself?! Your pathetic ass can't even spell lethargic and you're telling me?!"

The rant started, and you started going on and on and on about it. Seungmin listened, nodding and throwing in a few insults himself to let you know that he was still there, listening. All while he stroked your head gently and pat your back softly.

The meds started taking effect and you started feeling drowsy. And soon, before you even knew it, you had fallen asleep in the middle of your rant.

Seungmin pulled away just enough to look at you, gazing fondly at your sleeping form. He might be a menace, but he is a loving menace.

He pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head and held you close, close enough to comfort you but also let you breathe.

"good night, puppy."

Im done crying, gonna go sleep now *sob sob* and I finished this in 25 minutes, WOOHOOOOO

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Hello! if you accept requests, can I make it?

I hope the answer is yes🙂‍↕️

I really, really, REALLY want to see the situation with Thomas Hewitt when he was too affected by Hoyt's joke. Thomas was offended by him to the point of tears for the first time in many years, and Y/N calms him down.This only makes Tommy cry harder, since no one has calmed him so tenderly before. They spend a long time together like this until Tommy stops crying. (I ESPECIALLY WANT MORE DESCRIPTION OF TOMMY’S EMOTIONS. You can even write on his behalf if you wish🥺)

thank you very much, and have a nice day!

Someone to fall back on

It was a joke. A mean joke, but a joke nonetheless.

Thomas Hewitt heard them all before. The mean jokes, snide comments and straight up merciless teasing. From strangers, from victims. From some of his own family.

Hoyt's words towards him has always had a underlying tone of hate. Talking down to him like he was a child. Criticizing everything he's done to keep his family safe. And this only seemed to escalate when Thomas met you.

Brave, beautiful, wonderful you. He never imagined that he could love one person so much.

But not everyone thought your love was beautiful.

"Why the fuck else would someone stay with him?!? It ain't definitely for his looks!"

"That bitch is just waitin' for him to fuck up like he always do!"

"You must really fuck 'em good if they're willin' to put up with your ugly mug, eh Tommy? "

It hurt. It hurts.

There was so much nasty thoughts swimming around Thomas's head, that he didn't feel that first tear fall down his cheek. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

He didn't feel his hands gripping his hair so tightly, he was pulling out strands. He couldn't hear anything else but the pounding of his own heart and his uncle's voice replaying like a broken record. His body shaking, breathing coming out in short puffs.

Anxiety ate away at him, piece by piece. Despair tore through his heart like a freight train.

Everything was wrong. He was wrong. He was the monster keeping you in this hell hole for his own selfish reasons. He kept you because he loved you.

And you stayed because you feared him.

Thomas could feel his consciousness slipping away. Good, maybe he'd never wake back up.

But what would happen to you?

"-Mas? Thomas? Tommy!"

Your hands grabbed his, prying them off his abused scalp. He was scared to look at you, not knowing what look would be on your face. Disgust? Fear? He couldn't handle any of those.

He heard you sigh, then could feel your body sit next to him. When did he get down on the floor?

"Tommy, baby, are you okay?" You scoffed "Of course you're not. Your uncle's a asshole."

You grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. His teary eyes reluctantly met yours. You smiled "There's my handsome man. With his pretty eyes. "

Slipping on to his lap, you ran your fingers through his hair "You can't believe everything Hoyt says, Thomas. He's a bitter, old man."

"I love you, Thomas Hewitt. And I'm sorry if I haven't told you enough, showed you enough. And I'm sorry that Hoyt's words hurt that much. But nothing he says is, or will ever be, true."

With the upmost tenderness, you removed the beaten leather mask from his face. Placing a kiss on his forehead, you continued "I'm here because I love you. I stayed because I love you. Not because I'm scared, not because of pity. I love you, Thomas. Just you."

Thomas let out a broken sob and you brought his head to your chest "Tommy, please, there's nothing wrong with crying. I'd rather you get snot all over me than you kept all this in."

The quiet sobs turned into quiet wails as Thomas's arm pulled you closer to him. You hummed, some song he couldn't place a name on. Maybe it wasn't real, Thomas thought, you had a knack for random melodies.

But you were real.

This was real.

[evermoresqueiswriting]

enchanted

"This is me praying that This was the very first page Not where the story line ends My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon I was enchanted to meet you"

summary: the start of your friendship with clarisse la rue

pairing: clarisse la rue x f!reader

word count: 3k

tags: fluff, i also just matched clarisse’s age with dior’s

series masterlist 1/?

When your mother took you on a hiking trip in America, in Long Island, you were confused and reluctant. And you knew you were right when she stopped in the middle of nowhere on a hill. She told you she’d be leaving you there for the summer, and that Chiron would explain everything to you. 

“Who?”

Someone cleared their throat and you turned around.

“Close your mouth young lady,” your mother punched you in the arm. “That’s not polite.”

You shut your mouth, and stood straight. And you smiled. 

“Hi.”

“Hello,” the person standing in front of you smiled back. “Come. We have a lot to discuss.”

“Soo. Chiron huh,” you frowned, “as in Achilles and Patroclus’ Chiron?” 

Your eyes were glued to his face, expecting him to deny it. Chiron's serious face softened, and a smile appeared. It had been a while since he had heard these names. He sighed. Feeling uneasy towards his silence, you decided to keep talking to fill in the blanks. 

“I mean, I only read The Song of Achilles – very famous book, and also a very, very good book. Heartbreaking really, I cried for days. And you have the same name and–” you pointed at his other half of the body, “aaand same other… half? I mean if gods are real–.”

He stared at you before clearing his throat to stop you and started to lead you to elsewhere. You gladly followed him silently, and let yourself stare around. Everything looked amazing, from the cabin to the greenery to the people. They were all wearing matching t-shirts and bead necklaces. You wondered if you had to buy one or if they would provide you with one. Hopefully it was the second option because all your allowance was at home, hidden within the pages your favourite books. 

“I am.” Chiron suddenly said, making you stop in your tracks.

“You are… what?” you hesitated. 

“The same Chiron who taught Achilles and Patroclus.”

“Oh,” you nodded, staring straight at him. “Oh.”

Well, that wasn’t what you expected. Out of nowhere, you could feel all the sadness and heartbreak you experienced while reading the book rushing back at you all at once. The tears that prevented you from finishing the book, the yelling at your mom from interrupting you while crying because she just had to know if you wanted to eat dumplings that night. You kept your eyes high to prevent tears from falling. 

“Oh,” your voice trembled. “Well that’s great to–,” you took a deep breath, “great to know the only comfort I had after reading it was to know it wasn’t real and they didn’t really spend a decade separated after Achilles died and no one wanted to bury Patroclus with him, ha,” you let a shaky laugh. “Great. Just… great to know it was all real, you know.”

You covered your face with your hands. You heard Chiron approaching you, and felt a hand on your shoulder – an attempt at comfort. 

“I’m fine,” you added. “I just think there’s a lot of dust at camp and it got into my eye!” you sobbed, using your sleeve to wipe off your tears and snot. 

“A hero’s fate is not meant to have a ‘happy ever after’. It is unfair, I will give you that. But–.”

Suddenly, a horde of people came in, walking where you stood. People in combat gear and weapons. Your tears stopped and instinctively, you stood behind Chiron, trying to hide – maybe shield – yourself. 

“What’s happening?” you whispered. 

“Introducing you to everyone.” 

“Please don’t.”

Too late.

“Campers!”

The crowd instantly stopped talking altogether. Everyone was now staring at you. You didn’t know where to look and your gaze landed on a girl standing at the front of the crowd.

She had dark, long, luxurious curly hair that landed all the way back to her waist. How can someone’s hair look so pretty? She was wearing that orange tee, just like everyone else, and somehow it only looked good on her. She also had the necklace with beads like everyone here, and she had five beads. You couldn’t look at anyone else, and she could see that. She raised an eyebrow, and mouthed a ‘what?’ and you only smiled before looking back at Chiron. Your smile immediately dropped because Chiron was already looking at you, expectantly. 

“What?” you whispered. 

“I said what I had to, now it’s your turn. Introduce yourself.”

“You mean in front of everyone?” your heartbeat started to speed up. “Here?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t,” you took a step back.

“Why is that?”

“Uh, something called anxiety? Ever heard of that?” you whispered-yelled. 

Chiron pleaded with his eyes. You could hear his thoughts loud and clear – only because every teacher you ever had told you this before – ‘oh don’t be shy, they’re all nice, they won’t mock you.’ Right. 

“Fine,” you turned back to the crowd.  Staring at the sky, far away from their eyes, ignoring your quickening heartbeat, even though it’s all you could hear. “I’m y/n, and– I’m seventeenth, almost eighteen. I live with my mom, she went back home—.”

“Louder we can’t hear a thing!” someone yelled, and laughter ensued. 

Great. Exactly like at school, and now you wanted to cry again. A record – usually it only happens once a week because of school induced stress. 

“Well. I’m done,” you turned back to Chiron, forcing a smile. 

He nodded, and dismissed the campers, and most of them went back to what they were doing. Chiron did call someone – a guy named Luke – to stay behind. 

“Hey,” Luke smiled at you. 

“Hi.”

Something about Luke showing you around as he always does with new campers. You listened politely, and nodded along, but really all you could think about that disastrous introduction. And then your mind went back to that pretty girl you saw earlier. Where did she go? Your gaze wandered around, and saw her standing there with who you supposed were her friends. With her spear in hand, standing tall and proud – definitely a pretty girl. 

“That’s Clarisse,” Luke said.

Chiron was gone, you noticed. 

“Who?” your attention went back to Luke. 

“The girl you were staring at,” he nodded towards her, “that’s Clarisse, Ares head counsellor.” 

“Ares’ kid,” you nodded. “Are you two friends?”

“We’re… friendly enough. I’ll introduce you to her later if you want.”

“Yes,” you answered too quickly. “I do.”

Luke showed you around camp, explaining to you how things worked. Which were things you were supposed to know already if your mother hadn’t been trying to hide this from you since your birth. 

He showed you his cabin and told you you’d stay there until your father claimed you.

“What if he never does?” you asked him curious. “Are there even kids that are unclaimed?”

“Lots,” his shoulder tensed. “The gods, they just do as they please and if you’re an inconvenience to them, they’ll just ignore you until they need you.”

“Well, at least you’re—.’

Luke did not want to continue this conversation, and saw an escape when she noticed Clarisse walking by. He grabbed her arm, and let go immediately when she whirled around sending him a deathly stare. 

“Clarisse,” Luke smiled. “You remember y/n, from this morning.”

She looked at you, and smirked.

“How could I forget? Though I didn’t quite catch your name. Couldn’t hear a thing from where I was.”

Harsh. Moving on.

“Well,” you smiled at her, “I’m y/n.”

“Okay.”

Awkward was the perfect word to describe the silence that followed. Luke shifted uncomfortably before leading you both to the dining pavilion. You did your offering and ate in silence with Luke and his siblings. Luke tried to make conversation with you, but you were too exhausted after the whole day to be invested. After dinner, he showed you the top bunk bed you’d stay in. You thanked him, and went to sleep immediately. 

Luke quickly became your worst enemy at camp. He absolutely wanted to find what you were excellent at. He trained you and spared you for far too long, and you had let him injure you to spend some time at the infirmary with the Apollo kids. 

“I’m just saying it’d be great to change things and not only have one person show me around,” you told Chiron and Luke. 

“You did send her to the infirmary,” Chiron agreed. 

“She did it on purpose! She’s great at fighting, I was just trying to—,” Luke started before getting interrupted.

“If she wants someone else, she can. I’m sure someone from the Athena cabin can finish showing you around.”

“Or,” you jumped in, “someone who’s good at fighting and who wouldn’t injure me,” you grimaced, knowing it wasn’t true at all, “like…say, the Ares cabin? Clarisse maybe.”

They both turned their heads to stare at you confusedly, eyebrows arched. 

“Sure,” Chiron said slowly, “I’ll ask Clarisse.” 

“I don’t think Clarisse fits your description. I mean, only half,” Luke added. 

That same afternoon, there was an empty slot on the training grounds so Chiron thought it’d be great for you to meet up there. You sat on the grass, letting the sun kiss your skin when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around and there she was, hair loose, blowing in the wind. Her arms crossed, and her eyes on you. 

You stood up quickly, and brushed off your pants. You waved and smiled at her, to which she only rolled her eyes and walked towards you. 

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Chiron told me you asked for me to replace Luke.”

“I did! I mean I saw you fight when Luke dragged me to the sword fighting arena and you were there. And I was just in awe.” Clarisse smiled at that. “And I thought it’s be great to have you teach me.” 

Clarisse sighed, and stared at you without saying anything. 

“I’m not hearing a no.”

“I can’t say no when Chiron requested me to be there,” she argued.

“Oh,” your smile wavered. “Well… it’d be a great way to show off your amazing combat skills, right?” you were met with silence. “Or you could leave, because I’m clearly forcing you to be here,” you backed away, “it’s fine, I’m sure… Luke would love to take back his job for the last few days.”

You sighed and turned away ready to leave when you heard a whoosh sound. You turned around and saw Clarisse with her spear in hand, clearly ready to fight. You put your hands up to put some distance between the two of you. 

“Wait! I’m sorry I dragged you into this, please don’t kill me,” you knew she wouldn’t, but still wanted her to confirm she didn’t. 

“Don’t worry, sunshine,” she smirked, “I’ll try not to aim at that pretty face of yours,” she positioned herself for combat. “Now, why don’t you show me these skills Luke was telling me about?”

Regret. Instant regret washed over you when Clarisse started to fight like she was facing a Drakon. You parried as best as you could, and aimed at her when you had the chance to, but she was better – obviously – and she was not going easy on you. When you finally fell to the ground, with her spear touching your neck, you threw your sword to the ground, panting, admitting defeat. 

“Please can we have a break?” your voice came out hoarse. 

“Sure,” she retracted her spear, and walked away.

You closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath. The sun was still high at this hour, it was a pretty hot summer day which made you feel just slightly worse than usual. When suddenly, a shadow hid the sun from your face. You opened your eyes, and Clarisse was back with two fresh and cool bottles of water. She tossed one at you, catching it eagerly.

“Slow down,” she said, “you don’t want to drink too much after that much effort.”

“But it’s hot,” you laid back down on the grass.

“Stand up, your lungs are going to bring in more oxygen. You’re still panting – we’ll work on that in the future. You can’t be this tired after only one short fight.”

“Short?” you stood up. “It felt like it lasted an hour!”

“Yes, short.”

“Wait–, did you say ‘we’ as in you and me?”

“I don’t know any other definition for the word ‘we’.” 

“Were you impressed by my amazing–.”

“Decent.”

“– skills?” you frowned.

“Luke was right, you do have a lot of potential,” she added. “You just have to have a bit of training to perfect these skills.”

“Well, if you’re teaching me personally, I’m sure I’ll be great in no time.”

Clarisse smiled again, turning her face away. Yes, you definitely enjoyed making her smile. 

“What else haven’t you tried?”

“I think I did everything,” you paused for a moment. “Well, he didn’t show me the archery field.”

“I’ll show you. The Apollo kids are teaching a lesson soon. I’m sure they won’t mind us crashing their class.”

You two had the time to clean off before going to the archery field. Clarisse kept talking about the way things worked around there during the summer, and how excited she was for Capture the Flag. She’d won a pretty fair amount of times, and she loved the price it came with winning – extra dessert for a week. Which is something campers came up with since there wasn’t any price at the start. But overall, what she loved most was the pride that came with it. Especially if it was her plan that made her team win. 

“Well, I hope I'm on your team then.”

“Mmh, you wouldn’t be the worst teammate I had.”

You smiled, enjoying the compliment. 

“Here we are,” she showed you the group of campers in front of you. “The three in front are Apollo kids.”

“Are you good at it? Archery I mean.”

“I’m good,” she confirmed, then looked at you. “Really good.”

Lee Fletcher, Apollo head counsellor, was one of the teachers. The class lasted about an hour, and everyone learned new techniques about how to shoot an arrow in a fast and accurate way. At the end of the class, there was this game they all liked to play. Who could shoot their arrow as close as Lee’s. He’d shoot anywhere on the field and the winner would get all his chores of the day done by the loser. Or if the winner wanted, they could choose to curse — ask the Apollo cabin to curse — the rest of the class to talk in rhymes. It happened way too often but it was fun, and everyone – almost – loved it. Clarisse especially because she was always winning. The one time she didn’t laugh was when the Hermes cabin and the Ares cabin had this class together, and Luke won. 

“Should we make this even more interesting,” she turned toward you.

“Pray tell.”

“If my arrow is closer, you’ll do my kitchen chores for the rest of the week.” It was a Monday. 

“You just told me you never lose at this game, it doesn’t seem fair,” you chuckled. “But fine. What if I win?” 

“What do you want?”

She was confident which was her first mistake. You could ask the moon and she’d grant your wish because there was no way you could beat her at this. 

“Barbie is coming out July 21st, which is next week. If I win, we should go and see it.”

A bold move. She was looking at you, silently. Then her smile returned, and she nodded.

“Okay.”

Everyone gathered around Lee to see where he would aim. One of the oldest trees was at least 100 metres tall (328 feet), and the top tree branch was his choice. The branches were all surprisingly very steady, and not fraile and moving at the slightest sign of wind. Clarisse and you were last to build in more suspens. 

Clarisse shoots first. It was close, really close compared to the others. Her proud smile reappeared, and she handed you the bow she used with an arrow. You stood ready, bow arched, staring at Lee’s arrow. You didn’t let go yet. 

“I should tell you,” you turned slightly toward Clarisse. “I lied. Luke didn’t show me the archery field for a reason. I’m great at archery. Great as in I never miss my target kind of great.”

Your head turned back to the arrow and you let go in an instant. Everyone stared at it. Echoes of gaspings came from everyone present – your arrow had hit Lee’s arrow and it stood right where it was. His arrow was torn apart with now yours replacing it – easy trick. You tried to hide your smile, but couldn’t and turned around.

“I won!” you faced Clarisse.

She was speechless, staring at where your arrow had hit. And when she turned to face you again, she pointed at something above your head. The Apollo symbol, a lyre. On top of your head. Cheers from the Apollo kids – your siblings – and Lee came to welcome you and your skills home. 

Then Clarisse approached you, and with one look, Lee, James and Cornelia left you alone. 

“Did you know?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“About me being an archer goddess?” you joked. “Kinda. I had suspicions about Apollo being my father. I mean you can’t be born that good right? My teachers were always praising my natural talent,” you air quoted, “but I knew it was weird. And now it all makes sense now.”

“So, you knew you were going to win?” she put her hands on her hip.

“Yes?” you admitted. “I mean no. I haven’t practised in a while, I could’ve lost my touch and– are you mad?” you worried.

“No. I’m impressed.”

The stomach ache from anxiety disappeared. You could breathe again. This was great. 

“So, Barbie next week is still happening?” you needed her confirmation. 

“You won,” she agreed. “So yes,” and smiled.

[bonnibuckets]

RED FIGURES ! 18+

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

content. toxic reader, re2 leon in mind, mentions of readers abusive mom, degradation, sub!leon, dom!reader, pinching, slapping, biting, mentions of violence!! WC — 1K (half ass proofread)

synopsis. leon’s pretty face gets him in trouble

note. borders in pinned post! 🏷️ list— @ghostkennedy @adaelines @konigbabe @meowsiee @d34ng3l @redvleanli @rigorwhoring

Red was all you ever saw. A constant state of anger— maybe it was genetic because mommy was the same way. Her anger seeped into you creating a bitchy angry spiteful child who wasn’t afraid to bite, and fortunately for you, Leon didn’t mind being bitten. Mommy never spanked you, she’d pinch you whenever you acted out of line. It made you angry as a kid wanting to thrash, kick, scream, and bite, but mommy made sure you didn’t. Suppressing all that anger never did you any good, it bubbled up and boiled over like when you’d make food and forget about it and now it’s spilling over the pot. Mommy would get mad and pinch your ear and stomach real hard while yelling at you for being so useless. Hot tears and snot would stain your face as you tried to escape her grasp but it never worked.

That boiled-up anger got redirected towards everyone else, it always scared the boys away. They never liked how much of a spitfire you were. Maybe they were just fragile, that's what you told yourself at least. It had to be them because there was nothing wrong with you of course not. Leon only affirmed your belief, he’d come into your life broken and you fixed him right up. He clung to you like a cute puppy, it made you less angry and for the first time, you felt something more than anger. Leon knew about your “outbursts” he didn’t seem to mind too much, he would rationalize it in his head because of your past. He never held you accountable for the things you said or did, he took it like your personal punching back. Naturally, you were insecure, and having such a handsome face by your side didn’t help when other eyes looked at him. It angered you beyond belief and you truly didn’t know why, you chalked it up as normal because you had always felt angry and this wasn’t new.

Red was what you saw as a girl talked flirted with your Leon. “Yeah! Thank you so much” Her voice was gentle, her eyes kind, her skin soft, everything you weren’t. It was eating at you, you wanted to bite back. Gouge her eye out. Marching over pinching the fat of Leon’s arm “Hey” feigning a smile. “I didn’t know you had a friend” pinch. Shove her eyes down her throat. Leon’s face hid a wince— good boy. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.'' Her voice was thin. “Y-yea I do” his hand slithering around your waist. Staple her tongue to the roof of her mouth. “Yea, he does” Fucking bitch you literally were around Leon almost 24/7 as if this cunt didn’t know. Of course, she knew she just wanted to test the waters. She wanted to take away Leon, the only person who made you feel normal. “Well, I better get going see you later Leon!” pinch. “Y-yea” pinch. Stab her jugular. Her figure disappears, pinch. “What the fuck” “I’m sorry-'' pinch. “No you aren’t” you spat walking away. You wanted to thrash, kick, scream, and bite something and you both knew Leon was going to be it.

—

Red was what Leon’s skin was scattered with— red welts. His wrist bound as you bounced on him— red all over his thighs and chest from pinching and biting him. His nipples were next on your list, “she was begging for your cock” his hips bucks into you. “N-no” he whines “You wanna fuck’r huh?” you laugh, bouncing harder. “No!” his eyes getting watery, rolling your hips as you pinch his nipple. He moans squirming trying not to cum, your fingers digging into his jaw as your lips ghost over his “If you like her so much go fuck her”. Hot tears roll down Leon's face as he tries to break free and touch you— he just wants to hold onto you like he normally did. Face in your tits sobbing for your forgiveness, poor pup couldn’t get his fix. “No” he hiccups “I-I only want y-you” awe what a loyal boy pinch. “Good boy” you kiss him smiling, his hungry lips try to suck you in for more.

You pinch him again “Calm down”, his breathing and movements were becoming unsteady as his stomach flexes. You could tell he was getting close from the way his eyebrows twitched “You're so pretty” you coe, “but so stupid” Your palm connects with his cheek as he cries out. He was so close and it made you laugh— you knew Leon couldn’t cum without you, you’d shape him to like this. He was so malleable, so easy to mold into whatever you wanted. You say jump and Leon would ask how high— you loved that about him. “Please” he sputters out “please” “heard you the first time” pinch. He was so cute like this, a babbling mess, it was sick that you got off to this but it was also just as sick that Leon could only get off like this. Pressure was building in your stomach as your clit was rubbing against Leon's pelvic bone. Dipping down your teeth sink into his neck— not hard enough to draw blood but enough to hurt. He cries out again as his hips buck up. Pervert. “I’m s-so close” he was so unbelievably fucking cute squirming and thrashing around trying not to cum “Almost” you breathe out sitting back up as your head falls back. The pressure rises as his moans egg you on. “good Leon'' you moan admiring your art— the marks all over his body. Your orgasm was so close to ripping through your body as your lips connect with the marks as you chase your release, slurring out “So cute Leon, such a good boy” before desperately breaking Leon's restraints— immediately he wraps his arms around you and jackhammers into you as you gasp and he sobs slamming into you simultaneously finishing together.

Heavy breathing was the only thing to be heard in the room as you both tried regulating your breath. Cum leaks out as you ease yourself off and roll over next to Leon. Yawning you pull his face into your chest and stroke his head “Don’t ever talk to her again or I’ll draw blood next time and paint the room with her brain matter” “Yes Ma’am” Such a good puppy he is.

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