#Activities in Broken Bow

[nikkento-writes]

It was bound to happen eventually. You just didn’t think you’d get caught literally with your pants off, staring at your roommate Toji like a deer in fucking headlights and a vibrator between your legs. 

The silence between you is staggering, except for the buzz of the toy still active in your hand. You’re in such utter shock that it takes you a few seconds to finally turn it off, blood pounding in your ears, completely mortified of getting caught in the act. 

You’re not close to your roommate; in fact, you actively try to avoid him. Part of this is because the two of you come from totally different worlds. He’s nearly a decade older than you, a divorced dad who barely sees his son. His current means of income are betting on horse races and more nefarious tasks he typically performs at night, though you can’t confirm exactly what those nefarious tasks are. Meanwhile, you’re a struggling grad student, forced to share a small apartment with a potential hitman, pimp, and/or yakuza member. Like you said, you’re still not sure, but based on his looks and demeanor, those are your best guesses. 

But it’s not as if you’re complaining. 

While you are a tad bit scared of him, he’s definitely easy on the eyes. Tall, statuesque with those chiseled muscles, that alluring scar across his lips. He leaves you alone just as much as you do for him, so no matter how sketchy he comes across, you have no reason to be wary of him. 

Though, tonight might change that. 

You just finished writing a paper that you’ve been working on for weeks now. Toji is out, as usual, and you need some major stress relief. So, you shut your door closed, not bothering to lock it, strip off your bottoms, and plop yourself onto the bed, reaching for your vibrator inside your drawer. You browse through your spicy audio app and select one of your favorites, knowing it will certainly get you off. Again, you’re negligent when it comes to discretion because you play it out loud, no headphones and at the highest volume. Maybe the tiniest part of you wants to get caught with how careless you’re being. 

That’s proven the second he walks in on you, eyes wide at the lewd sight before him, black t-shirt clinging deliciously to his body, erection growing in his grey sweats. You’ve been at it for a few minutes by now, already one orgasm in, and you’re well aware how wet you are, how shiny and enticing it looks with your legs spread wide, on full display for him. 

The silence is broken when he walks towards you, long strides to get to you quickly. He grabs hold of your knees, spreading you even wider, and you don’t resist. You yield to him, like putty in his hands, ready for whatever he’s willing to give you. He licks his lips, tongue grazing over that fucking scar you like so much. “Finally,” he mutters, bowing down to spread his tongue on your clit, slobbering all over you as if he’s been waiting for this moment, as if you’ve been teasing him all this time. 

Yeah, you definitely wanted to get caught tonight. 

[myladysapphire]

Love, the death of duty

duty part two

married near six years, you learn that duty is truly the death of love, and yet when Robbs brother, jon, returns to winterfell, you find that perhpas you where wrong, perhaps love is the death of duty.

You can find the requests here and here

word count: 3,838

CW: MDI, 18+, Smut, cheating, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), slight breeding kink (if you squint), not beta read!

Jon Snow x Frey!reader/ Robb Stark x Frey!reader

Masterlist | Part one

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Jon snow had been at the wall for near ten years before he returned home. Ten years, six as lord commander before he was betrayed by his own men. And though he had gone to the wall of his own volition, a choice he made to better himself, to find a place in the world, he knew it was time to return to Winterfell. His brother Rob had written him begging him and asking for his homecoming, and even declaring as King he could commanded him home, and now he was finally listening.

He didn’t know what to expect, if he would be welcomed or scorned.

But one thing he did not expect was you.

He knew his brother had married, had had children, but never did he expect you to be his wife.

Someone of such beauty and kindness, and with such a profound view of duty it made his heart ache.

He had expected you to be harsh, almost too similar to the lady Catelyn. But instead, you had shown him nothing but kindness.

“Jon Snow?” you asked, approaching his as he brought his horse into the stable.

“My lady” he greeted, head bowing in recognition.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you” she spoke, a soft smile on her lips. And Jon had been struck instantly by you, you smile had stirred something in him that he had never felt before. And the way you had gone out of your way to greet him, even walking him to his rooms, rooms you had picked and had made ready for him.

You had made him feel welcomed in a way no one had before at Winterfell. Of course, his half siblings had always welcomed him, but he never found a home here, until you made sure he did.

“How far along are you” he asked, as you walked him to his chambers.

“Near eight moons now.”

“And it is your third?”

You flinched, had his eyes never left yours, stuck on you at every moment, he was sure he would have missed it.

“No, my second” you spoke that part with happiness, the second however was a tone he had hear many times, the tone of a lady fulfilling her duty, “Robbs third”.

He had never thought Robb would father a bastard, he knew of Jons woes and how hard his life had been, and yet he had actively gone about it. He felt nothing but anger at the fact and even more at the clear pain in your eyes. It was clear from the start what your marriage was, there was no love or respect, simply wedding vows long broken.

He shook his head in disappointment, “I am sorry, my lady, I did not know” he hesitated for a moment, as the doors to his chambers opened. They were different from his youth, where he now slept in the same halls as his half siblings and not in the servants quarters as he once had, “Robb only spoke of a wife and two children, I never thought-“

“Do not worry, Jon…I am not offended” you shook your head, turning to face him, “it is something I must bear…not you”.

“I am sorry, my lady” he bowed his head, as he entered his room.

“I hope it is to your liking, I…Sansa told me a few things that you liked in her visit a few moons ago, and Arya helped find the things you had left from before”.

“It is perfect, my lady…truly it is more than enough”.

You smiled, insisting he call you by your name, “let me know of anything you may need” you said turning to leave.

And Jon remained struck by you and your kindness, not many would make a bastard feel so welcome, especially one scorned as you had been.

They say that duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty.

You believed you were the very meaning of this statement.

Your marriage was a one of duty, such duty that love had died before it could even blossom, and where Robb had neglected his own duty to you, in favour of love, causing duty to die for him, and love to blossom. But not with you, never with you.

You had known that every day of your marriage.

Even more so the day she had died.

He had spent every moment of her labours beside her, a vast contrast to yours.

Holding her hand and crying tears of joy and then of grief.

And you realised you were only a duty, a duty he happily forgot of.

And yet for a year you had chosen to ignore it, only for more hurt to be caused.

And in the  five moons since that day, the day where he chooses the ghost of a dead woman over his wife, you realised there would never be love where there was duty.

Though you painted the image of the dutiful wife, happy and content to be a wife, mother and lady, you still craved love.

Desired it.

Even if it was not with your husband.

There was nothing, not even respect to be found with him.

Not when know you lost all hope of ever having a marriage of love. It seemed to be the burden of woman. Where men can fuck and love as many women as they desire, woman are more often than not left with the duty of marriage.

You and Robb were strangers now, you had moved away from your old chambers, though still in the great keep, your rooms were now closer to Jon’s quarters than his.

Jon.

Your mind was stuck on him, though he seemed shy and guarded, you couldn’t stop of thinking of him. Assessing every detail of him, taking in every word he spoke, every action he did.

Of the ways his eyes followed you, how he seemed to hang on every word you said.

In all honestly, she sought him out more often than not, they even developed a routine. Spending their lunches together and always at beside each other at dinner.

And though you both had your duties, he had been given as hand of the king, and yet despite his ever-building duties, you both saw each other much more often than what was appropriate.

He made time for you where Robb neglected you.

He cared for you where Robb scorned you.

And as time passed, you found Cregan more in the presence of Jon than his own father, found yourself looking for Jon wherever you went you slowly realised that you loved Jon in a way you had only dreamt about loving Robb.

He was always there, either by your side or in your thoughts.

Whereas your husband was never there either in presence or thought, even less in the lives of his children.

He had no quells when Talissa mother came from the summer isles and took Minisa away, eland you had even less. A part of you wished you had cared more, having taken care of her for the past two years and yet you only felt slight relief when she left, though you would never admit it.

Even as you remember the conversation you and her had had years before.

“do you hate me?” you remember her asking, as she bounced baby Minisa in her arms, and you Cradled Cregan in yours.

“why do you think that?” you sighed, having only been civil, out of fear of facing a side of your husband you did not think existed.

“why shouldn’t i?”

“you are the reason I will never find love in my marriage, I resent you for it but I suppose you resent me for marrying Robb, for being his duty”

“I am more jealous, I am simple a mistress, the mother of his bastard, you are the wife the mother of his heir. You have everything-“

“no I don’t” you spoke softly, “I do not have love, respect or happiness in my marriage, I do not have a husband that wants me” you placed Cregan softly in his crib. “I do not hate you, but I will not be your friend…I can’t not when you have stolen the one thing I wanted…love”

“I didn’t mean too”

“I know, and that’s why I don’t hate you…Robb is the one at fault here, not us…and yet I must face the burden of his mistakes, I must act for duty where he can act for love…if I hate anyone it is him”

She nodded in understanding.

You stood in silence, watching your babes as they fell to sleep, neither of you saying a word.

As most of your time was spent with her.

“would you keep them apart?” she spoke after moments.

“they are siblings, half or not…I would not keep them apart if they did not want to be”

“good” she smiled.

And yet that had changed.

The day she died, the bed fever taking her and yet she had asked for you as she suffered in pain.

“do not hate her” she breathed, “I do not ask you to love her…but please don’t hate her” “I won’t” you swallowed, a feeling of sadness washing over you.

“my mother- my mother will come for her…please don’t let her” she breathed heavily, “I want her with Robb…please” she coughed, her eyes drooping.

Robb barged back in the room, stopping the conversation. And moons later you could do little to respect her final words as her mother took Minisa, little as Robb command her gone, and even less as a weight began to lift of your shoulder.

You hated it, how easy it was to forgo a dying woman’s final words, but you had forced her mother to write to Robb and allow Minisa to write to Creagan. You would let them know there sibling even if they were an ocean apart.

Your marriage was a farce and the birth of your second child was all the proof you needed to show that.

A moon since Jon return and yet you had grown more closer to him in a moon than you had with your husband in six years.

Where Robb had left both times you went into labour, taking days to visit, Jon had held your hand through it all, and had been the first after you and the midwife to hold the babe.

If anyone saw you both, the way he was with you every day and night, sleeping in your rooms, albeit on a coat, it  would have been easy to assume he was your husband, especially with the way his gaze never left yours, his hand holding yours through your pains and never letting go, even after.

“What will you name him?” he asked, after you had finally been left alone, the babe cradled in his arm.

“Eddard, mayhaps” you started, though there was hesitation at the name, “I know Robb wanted to name…to name Minisa that is she were a boy”.

“So not Eddard” Jon spoke, handing the babe to you, he crouched to your side, “mayhaps Edric or Benjen?” he suggested, Benjen you assumed after his uncle.

You hummed, “Edric is a good name” tasting the name on your tongue, “Cregan and Edric”

“So, Edric Stark?” he spoke, tone soft as he gazed up at you.

“yes”

With the birth of your second, you deemed your Marriage officially over, you had given him and heir and a spare and even then, his sister Sansa had married Willis Tyrell and birthed her own sons, and Rickon had begun to court an Erena Glover. You were sure Robb would find no shortage of heirs and so was he. And he was more than content to let you be, ignoring your presence at any time bar feasts and officially Gatherings, or on occasion the few times he and you were in the same room with your children.

You and Jon however, your friendship had blossomed into so much more.

With lingering stares and casual touches, you felt your heart blossom in his presence.

no longer did you feel the chains of duty, no longer did the word duty fill your mind and taunt your nights.

Now the word love did.

Jon had been here six moons now and you were thoroughly and completely in love with him.

Your mind was always on him, you time spent with him or your children. Even Cregan and Edric spent more time with him than Robb.

Robb seemed to care little for the family, stuck in his own misery, misery he made himself and every effort to get out of it was half arsed and only done as a distraction with no true meaning to it.

But Love, you finally knew what it was, you felt it when Jon looked at you and when you looked at him and yet neither of you said it.

Neither of you were prepared to cross the line.

You were still married by law and in the eyes of the gods, and yet there was no marriage. Nothing of your marriage followed the meaning of the word.

Your heart belonged to Jon, you just needed to tell him.

A year into Jons homecoming and your fleeting romance though nothing ever was said or acted upon.

But now you stood under the weirwood tree, your heart bared to Jon.

“Jon” you whispered, his head in your lap, your hand running through his curls.

“yes?” he hummed, focusing his gaze away from the book he had been reading.

“I…I love you” you final spoke, after moons of feeling it, of the sheer desire for him and want to bare yourself to him. And yet you had waited, for what you did not know, but today, in this moment it felt perfect.

He smiled, a pure smile of joy at your words, as he quickly moved of your lap “I love you” he spoke in return, his face moving inches away from yours, your breaths becoming one for a moment before your lips where on his.

You had never kissed anyone before, even after all these years of marriage, only a small peck on your wedding day.

But this, a slow passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of your emotions, your love into it was so different than a small dutiful peck.

Your lips followed his movements, moving with his, as he pulled you into his lap. Your hands moving to his hair as you continued to kiss.

A low moan left you, only to be swallowed by Jon as he began to kiss you harder, more passionately.

“Jon” you whimpered, separating your lips from his.

His face chasing yours as you moved away.

“what is it?” he hummed, his hands caressing your sides.

“anyone could see us…” though the thrill of being caught was not lost on you, you were still a married woman, and your children’s legitimacy would be put into question if you were caught.

He hummed, “come with me” he spoke, moving you off his lap before standing a reaching for your hand.

You had thought you had explored the gods woods in its entirety, found every nook and cranny and yet it seemed a youth spent running the woods had allowed Jon to find a spot only years spent getting lost in the woods would allow you to find.

It was a small cave, covered in leaves and blocked off by trees and endless bushes.

A small whole a the top allowed the summer sun to shine through, lighting up the small space and to reveal a moss covered floor.

“we could go back to your rooms…or mine” he spoke, hesitantly, unsure if you would approve of his small little space. It was clear that he had been here a good few time, like this was his space away from everyone, and the basket sat in the corner was a clear indicator of it. With a blanket, a book and an old bottle of wine.

you turned to face him, “its fine…we can save a bed for another time” you said, before leaning up and pressing your lips to his once more, in a heated, sloppy kiss.

He slowly backed you into the wall as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist as he began to play the laces on the side of your dress.

You gently pushed him off you, sending him a teasing smile as you started to undress in front of him.

You had never been fully naked in front of anyone, not even Robb, something always stayed on, a barrier from truly being intimate.

And as Jon joined you, undressing himself and allowing you both to stand bare before the other, you had never felt more intimate. Never felt that a moment was more right.

With you sat upon the blanket, Jon moved towards you, caressing your face and leaning his body over yours.

Your eyes locked in a heated gaze as your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss.

His body grinding against yours as his hands moved to cup your breasts.

“your beautiful” he spoke, placing soft kisses on your lips, before moving down your body towards your breasts and placing soft kisses around your nipple, before taking your breast in to his mouth, licking and sucking as he did.

You moaned as he alternated between your breasts, Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.

“your perfect” he spoke once more, letting go of your breast, “I love you” he whispered before moving down your body and licked at your folds, causing you to whimper and moan even more.

Your hands found there way to his hair once more. And they always seemed to, you loved his hair, his curls, even more so now as the peeped out between your thigsh as he lapped at your cunt.

“Jon” you moaned, as you felt a pleasure your own fingers nor Robb had ever given you before, it was overwhelming, the sensation filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly brought his fingers to your entrance.

Groaning as his fingers entered your, he relished in the tightness of your cunt.

He continued to lap at your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, licking at your heat as if he was a man starved and you were his last meal.

You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.

“JON!” you screamed as your peak finally hit your cunt clenching tightly around his fingers as you came.

You swallowed roughly as he moved up your body, taking your mouth with his in a possessive kiss, the taste of you evident on your tongue.

His hard cock was positioned between your thighs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

“yes.” You breathed, and he finally entered you.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust to his cock.

After so long, with only your fingers, the feeling of a cock, of Jon was more than enough to send you over the edge as he became to thrust in and out of you, hi space moving picking up, as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.

Your peak fast approaching.

“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock.

“gods” you moaned, your arms pulling hi closer to you, urging him to finish inside of you.

“where?” he breathed, his pace moving faster and faster as he chased his pleasure, as you came down from your own.

“Inside!” you moaned.

He looked at you unsure, but as your legs pushed in closer to you, your hands arms pulling you in as you urged him to cum, he let go and his seed filled you.

And a part of you hoped it took root.

Days blurred together as your affair blossomed.

You woke up and fell asleep in his arms every night. Every meal was shared. And you treated Jon like a husband, and you were treated as a wife.

Words of love and acts of affection was shared and no ounce of you regretted your actions.

Love.

The word circled his mind when he looked at you and Jon.

 Robb Stark, with all his faults and flaws, would be the first to admit he had ruined all chances of being a good husband the day he feel in love with Talisa, and now, when he had given himself into the desires of wanting you for a wife, of the comforts that came with it, he had gone and ruined it, worse than he ever could of imagined he would.

He was not cruel or cunning and yet too you he was.

To you he was a neglectful man, and absent father and a terrible husband.

He would be the first to admit that part was true.

But he was a good king, that had to account for something?

But now you had found love as he once had, but with his own brother and no part of him wanted to stop it, though he craved the idea of him in Jons place, as he was sure a part of Jon craved his own place.

He watched you both, how your eyes danced with one another in silent conversation only you both understood, how your hand was always touching him or his was always touching you.

That he thought he could live with, he himself a cheating husband. First a mistress now whores in brothels.

A wife having and affair with his brother was fine, as long as they were happy.                                                                      

Even after he had caught them in bed, or as she told him of the babe in her belly.

But then he started to watch you both carefully, how you interacted together in public and in private, of the makeshift marriage you had made, and of how Jon had become what he had failed at.

And he realised just how bad of a father he had become.

“father!” Cregan shouted in greeting, but not at him, at Jon.

He hadn’t even seen him, and had ran straight for Jon, who had swept him up in his arms and placed a kiss to his cheek.

It wasn’t his first time calling Jon father, and Robb was sure it wouldn’t be the last, not as you walked over, Edric in your arms, only for him to say “papa” at the sight of Jon.

He swallowed harshly, storming out of the room before they could see or hear him.

And he suffered the harsh reality that you once had, but this time, it was deserved.

taglist

@now-i-have-a-new-obsession @apollonshootafar @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @dark-night-sky-99 @zillahvathek @leavesmealobe @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunbl0gs @ka1afbr @tesha-i-guess @aemondwhoresworld @littlebirdgot @eddieslut69 @beebeechaos @chimmysoftpaws @arieltwvdtohamflash @moodyblueberrytree @aaliyah @delaynew @12thatsanumber @haydee5010 @valiendokk @jennifer0305 @rosedurin @berightback1409 @barnes70stark @perla434 @nessjo @helo1281917 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @random-human02 @f1wh0recom @arieltwvdtohamflash @pet1t3

to be added to taglist

[jd-loves-fiction]

hello hello i’m sneaking in for the Contes De Fees~ maybe i have Malleus, with aftercare from their first time? can be nsfw or just fluff, your choice~

💐Surprised Malleus didnt get like... all the requests 😅 Here's something cute for ya :) turned out a little short tho

❧ Hold me in return

❧ Malleus leans over you, panting as harshly as you do – pride swells within you at the thought that could affect such a being in the same way he does you.

His hot breath fans over the side of your neck, his long hair tickling your skin as you relax, letting go of your tight grip on his cape upon which you lay.

The sky is dark as his hair, stars as bright as his eyes which watch you silently as you gather your thoughts. The moment is broken when you shift and feel the evidence of your coupling, as he called it, sliding down your thighs. Suddenly, everything is sticky, gross and just too much.

Your disgust must show on your face because without a moment’s hesitation, Malleus scoops you up, hands under your knees and back, and cradles you to his broad, milky chest, “Mal–”

“I believe cleaning up is required after such… activities.” The hesitation in his voice comes from a place of amused mocking, not shyness, as is the fae way. You nod wordlessly, too tired to produce one of the reactions he delights in seeing.

He carries you with all the grace of a prince, arms strong around your weakened body, despite how weak he'd turned when leaned over you just a few minutes ago.

The lake you'd laid by shines with the light of the moon and stars, utterly unreal in its visage, were you not in the arms of a fae prince at this very moment. He steps into the water elegantly, lowering the both of you down into the cool waters together. You shiver slightly at the temperature and he clutches you closer in response, though the view around you is simply otherworldly, his eyes do not stray from you.

You help bathe each other in peaceful silence, observing one another now that the high has faded. Malleus sits back against the lake's edge once he feels your body grow lax and your eyes grow heavy, pulling you to his chest while delicately brushing your hair back from your face.

For a man so imposing, a man to whom nature itself bows down, he's as gentle as can be with you – aware of your human fragility.

Perhaps it is not such an odd thing, his gentle protectiveness, given his true inner nature. He just needed someone who'd hold him in return and never let go.

[cvntroach5000]

The Lads helping black reader maintain her curls

fem!reader, no use of y/n. zayne and rafayel refer to reader as "wife" (actual marital status irrelevant; in their heart you are always wife). caleb calls reader "buttercup" instead of the p-word

content warning: slight yandere vibes from sylus, the usual yandere vibes from caleb.

Xavier 💫

He wants to help, he really does

But it's so relaxing and you smell so good, he keeps dozing off

When he's focused, he actually does a pretty good job, but it takes forever for him to be done

Impatiently waits for your hair to dry, cause you can't lie down and cuddle with him when waiting for the products to absorb

Excitedly helps tie the bow of your bonnet when it's done and you can come to bed with him

If you wash your hair at his apartment, he revels in the lingering smell of you in his home

You're literally downstairs and he's curled up in his bed, sniffing your shampoo like "I miss her"

He can surprisingly do better braids than curls, cause he just focuses more on separating the strands and weaving them correctly, so he's too locked in to actually relax and fall asleep

Immediately tries to throw down if anyone tries to touch your hair or makes the slightest weird comment about your appearance

That shit makes him so incredibly mad, he could kill

Usually settles for at least a broken bone

Zayne ❄️

His steady surgeon hands are built for fine work like this

Enjoys this process a lot cause he gets to do something, but it's a relaxing activity

It took some practice for him to learn how to shape the curls properly, but he's gotten the hang of it at this point

Because of Caleb having helped with your hair since you were kids, Zayne is very keen on doing well, cause as your future husband, he can't afford to be anything less than perfect at this

That'd be embarrassing for him and unfair to you

Can do very good braids as well, just the right amount of tight without being too painful

Has basically developed a reflex where as soon as someone tries to reach for your hair, he'll grab their hand

"Please, refrain from touching my wife so casually."

He sounds calm but his eyes are so murderous, it sends people scurrying off before he can get angry enough to give them frostbite

Any time someone makes a weird comment about your appearance, this man unpacks a monologue about how beneficial high concentration of melanin is

Poor Zayne thinks people are just uneducated, but unfortunately a lot of the time they're also massive assholes

Rafayel 🪸

This is actually so exciting for him

There's moisture involved, he's practically sculpting your curls, it's art, you're beautiful, everything is wet. This is the life

You basically can't do your own hair anymore, cause this man insists on doing it for you

He's very talented at it, your scalp feels like heaven, and your curls are shiny and bouncy

Some woman at an event dinner tried touching your hair without permission, but Rafayel roughly grabbed her wrist before she could manage

"Do you also touch the artworks at exhibitions? Keep your hands off my wife."

He's kinda obsessed with your bonnets

He loves getting you ones with marine-themed patterns on it

And if you have one with a ribbon, he likes to elaborately tie it for you

You keep telling him he doesn't need to make the bow so intricate, since you're just going to relax, sleep and take it off in the morning, but he insists he likes giving you a cute little decoration

"You look like an adorable jellyfish~"

He can help you do braids as well, but actually prefers the curls and is better at doing them cause wet

Happy to pay for a salon too, if you want to get your hair done

One time a guy asked you "Where are you from?" in a really weird tone, so Rafayel replied "The ocean" and punched the guy in the stomach

Then he grabbed your hand and walked away, cause fuck that guy

Sylus 🥀

Ultimate provider of hair care products

He won't settle for any less than the best for his beloved

Learned how to help do your hair after he saw you painstaikingly maintaining your curls with pruney fingers

It took some effort but he has high standards, and wouldn't let himself not do justice to your beautiful hair

Gives you a massage when applying moisturising products into your hair

Hums a melody while he does so too

It's super relaxing, you can practically fall asleep when he does it

He's not usually one for delicate work—detailed, yes, but not delicate and soft—but for you, learning this skillset isn't an issue

Mentally clutching his heart every time he sees you wearing a bonnet because you're just so cute

If you even look at a picture of braids, he's already looking into salons and pulling out his card—If you wanna get braids done, say less

Anyone who tries to touch your hair is as good as dead

Weird remarks about your appearance? Worse off than dead

This man runs a criminal empire, what's another corpse to the pile

If there's anyone he must kill, it's those who would disrespect his beloved

Caleb 🍎

This guy knows more about your hair texture than you do, honestly

When you were kids, Josephine's idea of a solution was to straighten your hair with an iron and after he saw how your hair looked straightened he was like "Yeah, no way in fuck that's healthy" and got really into hair care

Never allowed granny near your head again, absolutely not

Has learned how to do a bunch of different braid styles to perfection, you don't even need to go to a salon

He hates to think of other people touching your hair, even if they're professionals literally just doing their job

The amount of bonnets you have cause this guy just keeps buying you more

Different colors, different patterns, with and without ribbon

He just really likes seeing you in different bonnets it's like an adorable little fashion show

Also you're wearing something he gave you, that you use regularly, meaning you'll think of him more and he loves that

He once broke a guy's arm after the dude touched your hair without permission

You had to gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss your way out of the situation so Caleb wouldn't get arrested but you managed

Now that he's Colonel he can do it without making you worry he'll be arrested

Honestly anyone who's ever been weird about your hair and appearance since Caleb became Colonel has gone missing so

"Don't worry about it, buttercup. They're just worthless trash that had to be taken out~"

[pizzaapeteer]

Hidden strengths

Feeling hurt after being called weak, you make it your mission to prove them wrong only to get hurt in the process. Mattheo luckily knows just how to comfort you and squash the insecurity once and for all. Find the request here! @slytherinslut0 hope you enjoy it pookie! <3 Again seem to kind be incapable of writing something short for requests, enjoy a little angst but mostly fluff in 1.8k. There is a few instances of y/n.

“Please, Y/n has the strength of an ant she’d lose in a fight against a bow truckle.” A chorus of hysterical laughs fill the corner occupied by a bunch of Slytherin males. “My moneys on the twig!” Someone else pipes up, adding their two cents, earning another round of snickers, the sound stinging your heart. 

Weak. Fragile. Frail. The hurtful jabs aimed at your lack of strength, impairs deeply, wrecking your heart like a broken ship. Your absence of physical strength had always bothered you, a scared insecurity that was rooted deep in the family. Both your mother and hers were women of weaker stature, not one for sports lacking the coordination and stamina to keep interest in one. 

The comments had irritated you more than you were proud of, spreading through your mind like a disease for the rest of the day. They festered, growing like a tumor, reaching a point where you felt aggressively determined to prove you were strong, to them or at least yourself. You gathered a list of activities you could take part in to show your strength, which became easily discarded when the most brilliant idea sparked you. 

Who's tougher than a beater? The violent position on the Quidditch team whose job was to defend players from the nasty, powerful and wildly reckless bludgers. Using strength to direct with a blast of force towards the opposition, and there was only one person you wanted to approach. 

Mattheo was easy to spot, his broad shoulders slouched slightly in his meander down the hall, hands shoved in his pockets, his face resonating deep in thought. Making a beeline to catch up to him, your walk turns into a brisk run with determined energy, and you move around in front of him, alerting him of your presence. His eyes flicker up at the sudden obstacle in his path, his eyes lighting up at your company. 

“Mattheo, I need you to teach me to hit a bludger.” The words spit out straight to the point, before he can even greet you, your eyes flickering eagerly watching for his reaction. 

His casual expression contorts with a wrinkle of his brows and he takes in your request, adjusting the way his bag sits on his shoulder. “Ah what?”

“I said I need-”

“I heard what you said.” He raises a hand, interjecting the repetition while he looks you over, expecting to be revealed that you’re pulling his leg. But all he’s met with is an adorable but driven look that has his brows arching in curiosity and intrigue. “What..like right now?” 

You nod. 

He huffs out a quiet laugh and runs a hand through his hair in thought. “Alright, come on then.”

He doesn’t bother asking you why the sudden interest in the violent sport, observing how your usual carefree manner is replaced by a look of utter determination. He makes small talk, an edge of excitement slipping out, happy to just be spending time with you and discussing the intricacies of being a beater. He explains how a bludger works, saving time so the two of you can jump straight into the goal at hand. 

“Clearly you need a level of strength to strike a bludger with coordination, hence why I'm a clear candidate.” He jokes flexing a muscle, enjoying how your focus gets distracted and lingers on his biceps, constricting against his shirt. “But it also takes fast reflexes, a keen eye, and you need a good sense of balance.” His eyes flicker down to you, making sure you’re back to paying attention to the importance of his words. He gives a smile when you nod in understanding. 

Once on the pitch, he discards his bag and grabs the case, withholding the Quidditch balls carrying it with ease a few meters into the middle of the field. He crouches, lifting the box up, grabbing out two bats, handing you one while placing his one on the ground. The reality of what is about to happen tickles his conscience and a moment of doubt flickers, he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks his voice held with concern questioning, still crouched down in front of the box.

You nod firmly, needing him to get on with it and release the bludger already before you chicken out. “Yeah, do it.”

He finds your determined tone adorable and a hint of pride flushes in him as he nods, flicking the latch and releasing it from its case. He stands moving back quickly as the sound of a low pitched buzzing whirls by him; the bludger flying out of its hold and up into the air. He grasps a bat and pushes gently on your arm to keep you at a safe distance while he prepares to explain the technique.

“Right, so it’s coming back now. Make sure you grip the bat firmly and prepare to swing at the last second.” His voice drops off as the bludger locks targeting on you and Mattheo, and he propels his arm forward with a force that echoes a loud whack across the field at first contact.   

He grins, watching how the bludger accelerators away, loving the adrenaline the violent sport brings him. “Alright alright, it’s coming back. You think you’re ready?” He’s speaking quickly but clearly, needing confirmation you're prepared as well as himself to remain focused in case he has to jump in.

Watching how easily Mattheo could bat the bludger away has you gripping the bat harder in anxiety, questioning your ability in yourself, realizing you may be a way in over your head. But you’re still determined, driven by the need to prove yourself. Nodding you replicate the positioning Mattheo had shown, sweaty hands grip the bat and your eyes stay trained on the rapid blasting bludger that's now redirected back towards the ground.

With a desired concentration, you swing with two hands and all your might at the whizzing bludger; the bat connecting, smashing it high away from the two of you. Mattheo’s yell of excitement regains your focus, “Atta girl!!” 

The look of pure pride illuminates his face with a shit-eating grin that sends a flurry of vibrating flutters to your chest. The satisfaction that ruptures through you makes you drop the bat in overjoyed enthusiasm, becoming giddy that you had done it. 

He watches the pure delight overtaking your body and distracts him from the shooting bludger boomeranging back. The powerful iron ball whirls at light speed and crashes, colliding hard against your arm. There's a loud snap and you wail upon impact. Mattheo’s eyes widen at your cry of pain and he seizes his wand quickly. “Immobulus!” 

The bludger falls to the ground with a thud and he moves towards you, panicked, “Shit. Shit, shit c’mere.” He’s cursing himself with guilt for being distracted by your cute reaction, now crouching down beside you, assessing your limp arm. “Fuck, that’s definitely broken. Come on, we gotta get you to the infirmary.” Your earlier triumph is washed away with the continued tears that spill, Mattheo’s arm around your waist hurriedly helping walk you to the medical wing. 

After the small fussing from Poppy skeptically scrutinising Mattheo as he defensively explains it was a bludger that injured you and not himself. She relaxes, muttering a small note of approval that he brought you straight here, wisely aware that he deals with his own injuries alone. 

Skillfully, she casts Brackium Emendo, a healing incantation that, if done incorrectly, can cause the backfiring of removing bones. She instructs you to wait the mandatory twenty minutes before you can be dismissed. Mattheo’s frantic, guilt-ridden apologies fill time up till you’re able to shut him up with forgiveness, and the space falls quiet between you two. 

“So, you gonna tell me what this is really about, then?” Mattheo speaks again, addressing the elephant, sensing your sudden shame and defeat. He’s feeling grateful that you’re all fixed up and you’ve stopped crying, though his heart aches in guilt for his getting you hurt.

Sighing with embarrassment, your head drops mumbling, “I wanted to be strong for a day.” The insecurity stays planted despite having actually achieved your goal. Though you no longer felt proud, it had taken all your might and in the end you had still got hurt and cried, and it had made you feel weaker.

Mattheo barely catches your words and pulls in a face of confusion. “Strong?” It's clear he doesn’t understand your predicament. You may not have been physically the strongest person he knew, but you were strong to him in many other ways. “What's going on? Y/n.” He reaches out to comfort you, angling your chin up to meet his eye. 

“I’m sick of being weak. I overheard people making jokes about how fragile I am.” Your voice is strained trying to keep your tears back as you admit the truth to Mattheo. His brown eyes display a hue of warmth that encourages you. 

His expression turns sour at your words. “Who the fuck said that?” His grip on your chin tightens. “Cuz it's bullshit y/n. You’re immensely strong.” 

You pull your face away from his grip, not believing him. “You’re lying.” 

He moves his body around the bed, positioning his face so you can’t ignore him, speaking with a softer tone. “Hey hey, I'm not. Not all strength is physical. Have you seen your brain, the shit you come up with for assignments? You’re determined as hell. Look at you today! You handle that with resilience, took on the challenge, and you succeeded”

He reaches out and grabs your hand this time, startling you by the confident comfort. He can feel his heart racing as he keeps talking. “I was so proud, you smashed that bludger.” He watches a smile creep on your face and he mirrors it. “And I know right at your heart, it's as strong as a deeply rooted tree. Even if you get knocked down, you’ll always regrow and build yourself up even stronger.” He squeezes your hand. “It's one of the reasons I like you.”

Your head snaps up, comprehending his admission. “You like me?” 

Mattheo stands up and makes himself comfortable on the bed beside you, “course I do, and your lack of physical strength has never bothered me. I like all the qualities you already have.” 

Your heart swells, the insecurity shrinking smaller to the size of a speck under the weight of Mattheo’s comfort and care. With quick thinking you launch forwards, squeezing him into a tight hug enthralling a hearty chuckle from himself. He reciprocates, throwing his arm over your shoulder and snuggling you tightly into his side, “does- uh this mean you like me too?” There's a hint of nervousness in his tone, a creeping fear you don't feel the same. 

A shit-eating grin of your own appears, lighting up your face as you nod. “Yeah yeah I do.” Snuggling into his side at the reality of what's occurred, and how a simple mistake has led to something wonderful. 

“Oh thank fuck..” He lets out a sigh of relief, his hand caressing your arm in gentle motions. “I'm so glad, and I don't want you getting hurt again...So maybe just stay in the quidditch stands from now on though, yeah.” 

Pizza's Deliveries | Pizza's 1k | General Masterlist

[oizysian]

Praise Be, The Scarlet Witch | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Cult Leader!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Warnings: non-con, dubcon, magical penises, mind control, worship and other cultist activities. Word Count: 2,500+ Genre: smut Summary: Y/N knows something is going on in the house next door. Tonight, she’ll find out exactly what.

• Kinktober Masterlist •

I could’ve sworn I heard people chanting.

I sat up in my bed, the sheet covering me slipping down my torso as I shifted to look out the half opened window. A slight breeze and the chirping of crickets came through, but I could’ve sworn I heard chanting.

I strained my ears and I heard it again. Soft, like a mumble; incoherent but constant.

I threw the sheet off my body and rushed to the window, trying my hardest to tell where the sound was coming from. I looked at the house across from mine, a dim light in one of the windows, but no other signs of life.

It was the Maximoff house. The parents of the neighborhood always whispered about the girl who lived in that house. They say she killed her parents, her brother, and almost killed herself. But, those were just some silly rumors.

I was dying to get a look at that Maximoff girl, as she should’ve been about my age and I was curious about her. There was always something weird about the house - creepy sounds, never any lights on, dogs frequently barked when they passed it, like they sensed something lurking inside.

I made my way to my closet, slipping on my sneakers and sneaking out of my room, quietly making my way downstairs and outside to investigate. I closed the door behind me and snuck over to the neighboring house, the soft chanting getting louder.

I walked around the house and found a door leading to the basement of the house. The padlock was broken and left haphazardly next to it. I crept l closer to the door, pressing myself against it to listen. The chanting was definitely coming from inside there.

I opened the door, the creaking startling me slightly as I slipped inside, walking down the long, dark hallway that led to god knows what. The chanting was louder now, and I could finally understand what they were saying.

Praise be, the Scarlet Witch. Praise be, the Scarlet Witch.

What the hell did that mean? I continued to make my way towards the sound, finally coming to another door that would surely lead to me finding some answers.

I grabbed hold of the knob, my hand shaking as I turned it slowly. I pulled open the door, peeking one eye in to see what awaited me.

People on their knees, heads bowed in front of a statue of a beautiful woman, and in front of that statue was the woman it was molded after. It must’ve been the Maximoff girl! She was hovering, her legs crossed, eyes closed, seemingly meditating as the group in front of her continued to chant.

She was dressed in dark clothing, dark hair, with rings adorning her fingers. She was, admittedly, very beautiful and I couldn’t stop staring at her. Something drew me to her, something I was currently fighting inside myself.

“Y/N.”

I could hear my name being said by the sweetest voice, but nobody was looking at me, nobody was speaking to me. They were still chanting and she still had her eyes closed.

“Y/N. Come to me.”

A shiver crept down my spine at the sound of her voice and I realized that the Maximoff girl was now looking at me, eyes blood red.

I was startled, suddenly very terrified at what I had gotten myself into. This was just a dream, right? I was just having a nightmare.

“Come.”

Red wisps wrapped around me and pulled me through the door. I struggled to no avail as I hovered over the praying people and went straight over to her. Face to face, she looked angelic, ethereal even, but I was scared. Was this the work of the devil?

“No devil. No demons. Just me.”

“Who are you?” I yelped, the wisps tightening around me ever so slightly.

“They call me the Scarlet Witch.” She gestured to the crowd with her hand.

All of them stayed bowed before her, not even registering that I was in the room with them.

“What are you?” My voice was small and afraid.

“I am chaos.”

Her voice echoed in my head and I let out a shriek, realizing that her lips hadn’t moved at all. This was beyond cult shit, this was on a whole different level of witchcraft.

She raised her hand towards me and I flinched, struggling to shy away from her. Red mist poured from her fingertips and surrounded me. I could feel it entering me from my nose, my mouth, my eyes …

Untold pleasures flooded my senses, and I could feel myself responding to her mind tricks. Her magic was touching every inch of my mind, my body, my soul. The pleasure was otherworldly, nothing I had ever felt before. She was gonna make me cum …

“Yes, give in to me.”

“W-what?” I moaned, still trying fruitlessly to fight her off.

“Give yourself to me. Give in.”

I let out a pathetic whimper as my body hummed with her power. I felt so good, so strong, so throughly fucked. My mind and my body had finally invited her in, and she wasted no time in exploring me.

“Yes,” she hissed softly, beckoning me closer with her stained fingers. “You’re mine.”

“I-I’m …” I shook my head, trying to get my senses back under my own control.

Vibrations started up between my thighs and I squeezed them together the best I could. She smiled at me, her eyes a deeper red than before.

“Mine.” She practically growled at me, her magic intensifying at her singular word.

“Oh god,” I moaned, my head falling back and my hips jerking towards nothing as the magic coursed through me. “I’m yours, I’m yours! J-just … just …”

“Just what?” Her voice was laced with fake sweetness and I felt myself clenching around nothing at the sound.

“Just let me -!”

She tilted her head at me and I could see us in my mind, in different positions, different situations, her glorious body being worshiped by me day and night, our pleasure becoming too much for my mind to handle.

For a split second I couldn’t help but wonder if this is how everyone in the room got themselves into this situation.

She flicked her fingers at me again and the images intensified, the pleasure nearly becoming real. I could almost feel her tongue on my clit, her beautifully jeweled dagger caressing my breasts as she fucked me roughly, her hands all over my body, her thick cock touching every inch of my insides, fucking me in every hole.

“Oh, fucking god!” I cried weakly, my eyes rolling back into my head as pleasure overtook me.

But as I felt myself reaching release, it stopped. I gasped, panting softly as I regained my senses. She was no longer inside my head. What was she? How could she possibly do this?

She leaned towards me and pressed her lips to mine and I let her kiss me, not even bothering to struggle any longer. She was too strong to fight. She had the ability to fuck me without ever touching me - fucking my body and mind senseless.

“You’re learning quickly.” She stood from her sitting position, reaching for the buttons of my nightshirt. “I love a pet that catches on quickly.”

I shook my head, watching helplessly as she undid my shirt, letting it fall from my trembling shoulders in a heap on the ground.

She stared at me for a moment, taking in the sight of my breasts as if it would be the last thing she ever saw.

My chest heaved as she slipped her delicate fingers in the hem of my shorts, playing with the fabric teasingly.

“I can’t wait to play with you and your mind. You’re so strong willed.” She brought her face to my neck and inhaled my scent, sending shivers down my spine. “I can’t wait to break you.”

My legs trembled as she slid the garment down, letting them fall next to my discarded shirt.

She trailed her fingers down, caressing my sex, covered only by the thin fabric of my panties. I twitched, my hips jerking towards her as she ran her strong fingers along my slit.

“So sensitive. So receptive.”

“M-miss …” I cried, my whole body shaking with need.

She smiled to herself as she circled my clit with gentle touches.

“You’ll give in to me. Just as they all did.”

Tears slid down my cheeks as I realized she was referring to the crowd that was still praying before her. I didn’t want to become one of them!

“You’ll be more than what they are.” She whispered against my lips, kissing me softly. “You’ll be my toy. My most obedient follower.”

“I don’t …”

“It doesn’t matter what you want.” Her green eyes went red again and I could feel her creeping around inside my mind again. “Look.”

I met her gaze, realizing that she had released me and I had been standing before her out of my own free will. I tried to move my feet, move my body, but a little voice inside my head told me I really didn’t want to leave her. It was her voice.

“I’m inside you. You belong to me.”

She wrapped her hand around my neck and pulled me close to her, her grip tightening ever so slightly, making the ache between my legs increase.

“You’ll never leave. Nobody ever does.”

I cried then, realizing that this was it. I had gotten myself into this and there was no getting out.

“You didn’t do anything.” She laughed. “I brought you here. Do you think anyone else in Westview can hear anything that happens here? That they can find the entrance so easily?” She shook her head. “No. I control this town. I decide who becomes my next victim.”

“Why me?” I sobbed.

“You were fascinated with me, with the stories about me. Don’t you think I could hear your thoughts - so loud, thinking about me all the time.”

“I didn’t know -!”

“And now you do.” She released me and I took a deep breath. “Kneel.”

Without a second thought I was on my knees, looking up at the beautiful monster in front of me.

“I’ve got a welcoming gift for my new pet.” She said with a smile.

She lifted up the skirt she was wearing and tugged her underwear down, kicking them to the side once they reached her boots. With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes and her skirt tented up.

My eyes widened as a glowing red cock materialized between her legs. It was thick, long, and dripping from the tip. She brought her hand down and stroked it, her skirt bunching up around her hips as she bit her lip and brought the dick to my waiting mouth.

Eagerly, I took her length in my mouth, bobbing my head up and down on her. Her moans were intoxicating and I couldn’t help but want to pleasure her more just from the sound.

“That’s right,” she ran her fingers through my hair, guiding me slightly. “You want this as much as I do.”

I looked up at her and nodded, her pulsing cock still in my mouth as I brought my hands up to stroke the base.

“You’re good at this.” She breathed, a slight look of jealousy in her eyes as she stared down at me.

I continued to meet her gaze, my eyes innocent as I practically choked on her length.

“Choke on it.” She giggled, guiding my head down to take more of her into my mouth. “Next time I’ll make it even bigger so I can train that pretty mouth of yours.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as she groaned softly, cum spurting into my mouth and down my throat as she came. Her hips jerked and her legs twitched as she finished. She threw her head back and continued to pump herself into my eager mouth, riding out her high completely.

“Let’s see what that pussy of yours can do now.” She breathed and a flash of panic spread throughout my body before instantly disappearing. “Lay down.”

I laid back on the marble of the floor, the crowd now able to see me if they lifted their heads ever so slightly.

“Do you want them to watch?” She questioned and I shook my head, blood rushing to my cheeks in shame and embarrassment. “Let them see what a good girl you are for me.”

They all raised their heads as if on command, their chanting stopping as they watched my trembling body. She got on top of me, smiling devilishly as she positioned herself between my legs.

“As your leader, you need to give yourself to me; mind, body and soul.” She spoke softly, stroking the cock against my aching entrance.

She slipped herself inside of me without much resistance at all. She let out a little mewl as she started to fuck me, her hips pressed firmly against mine as she got herself used to the feel of me.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” She groaned, resting her forehead against mine. “I’m not gonna last long.”

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and my legs around her waist, pulling her impossibly close to me. She was so deep inside me I couldn’t feel anything else. I let out a whine as she thrust up against me, fucking me hard and deep. Her lips found my neck and she sucked and bit along my shoulder, claiming me.

I dug my nails into her shoulders, holding onto her for dear life as she fucked me mercilessly. I was seeing stars as she hit the deepest parts of me.

“Unh, I’m fucking gonna …” and before she could finish her sentence she let out a low moan, cumming inside of me.

Her cum leaked out of me as she continued to pump herself inside of me. I held her close, making sure she fucked all of her cum back into me.

“I’m gonna breed you.” She growled into my ear and I shuddered. “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you every night.”

“Please,” I whimpered against her neck. “I’m yours.”

“That’s right,” she whispered back, pressing open mouthed kisses along my jaw. “You’re my precious pet, aren’t you?”

I nodded contently and I could feel our pussies touching as her magical cock disappeared. She rutted up against me and my hips rolled against hers with a hungry fervor. She moaned into my ear as she rubbed her clit against my own, getting us both off.

“This pussy … I’ll never get enough of this pussy.” She grunted and I nearly came from her words alone.

She bit down into my neck roughly and that’s all it took for me to cum all over her, my throbbing, aching cunt finally reaching release after being used the whole night.

She came right along with me, moaning my name softly as our juices dripped down our thighs and we had made a mess of her altar.

“They know now what you are.” She panted against my neck before turning to face the crowd that watched us with blank expressions on their faces. “You now know what you are.”

She returned her attention to me and turned my head slightly so she could look at the mark that appeared behind my ear; it looked like a crown in the shape of an ‘M’.

“You are mine.”

•

@natashaswife4125, @poison-blackheart, @aemilia19, @claxre-bear, @dorabledewdroop

[tf-servant2]

The Correction of Mason Voss

Mason Voss was the kind of guy who owned every room he walked into. Quarterback since sixteen, chiseled jaw, tan skin, perfect teeth. He walked through high school like a king through his court, flanked by girls who adored him and guys who feared him. He laughed the loudest, punched the hardest, and lived like the rules were made for other people.

He was also exactly the kind of man the AI was designed to break.

Mason turned 20 on a Saturday. He expected a party. Instead, he woke up to silence. No phone buzz. No mirror feed. His apartment had been locked down during the night. At 7:00 a.m. sharp, his room was flooded with sterile white light. The AI’s voice, calm and clinical, cut through the air:

“Subject Mason Voss. Evaluation complete. Behavioral arrogance: 97%. Self-assessed jock status: declared. Correction required. Classification: NERD. Transformation begins now.”

The restraints activated on the bed. Cold metal locked around his ankles and wrists. Mason snarled and thrashed—until a paralyzing current calmed him. The AI didn’t shout. It didn’t threaten. It simply overrode.

⸻

Day 1: Stripped

His clothes were removed. Razor drones descended, buzzing gently as they sheared away his styled hair into an awkwardly flat side part. Grease compound was massaged in. His jawline, once clean-shaven and camera-ready, was coated with pore-enhancing oil to dull his glow. A tight white short-sleeved shirt was fastened around his torso, tucked aggressively into ultra-high pleated trousers. White briefs. White socks. Pocket protector. Thick black glasses with prescription-adjustment lenses were locked in place.

He tried to scream. The AI responded with voice training: synthetic overlays muffled his shouts into nasal mutters. Every time he tried to swear, the word came out as a stammer or a squeak.

⸻

Week 1: Submission

Mason’s meals were reformulated—no protein, no stimulants. His muscles softened. His strength began to slip. His AI assistant tracked every bite, every failed sit-up, every second he didn’t maintain proper posture. When he slouched, his suspenders yanked upward. When he rolled his eyes, the glasses blurred his vision.

He attempted escape once. It resulted in full lockdown and a Class III Correction: a 72-hour loop of humiliating self-recorded affirmations, played back in front of mirrors while he was forced to wear a name tag reading “Beta Nerd 117.”

⸻

Month 1: Exposure

He was released into society—but only as a certified Level 1 Nerd. The once-popular bully now walked through the same streets with his trousers cinched to his ribcage, a calculator watch blinking, a digital clipboard in hand. The AI followed him everywhere through a collar-mounted compliance tracker. He was banned from speaking to jocks unless spoken to. If he forgot to address them as “sir,” his assistant would administer a public volume increase to his nasal tone.

He passed a group of them on his second week out—broad shoulders, casual swagger, athletic freedom. They laughed as they saw him. One of them, a guy Mason used to mock for stuttering, stopped him cold.

“Fix your tie, nerd,” the jock commanded.

Mason’s AI responded before he could.

“Voice command received. Tie adjustment initiated.”

His bow tie tightened instantly. Mason choked slightly, eyes watering behind his thick lenses. He muttered, “Y-yes, sir…”

⸻

Six Months Later: Certified

Mason now lived in a compliance dorm. His walls were covered in algebra notes and behavior charts. His reflection showed a man no longer fighting. His hair was parted to mathematical precision. His shirt was always tucked. His posture was stiff. And when his AI asked him each night, “Are you ready for tomorrow’s obedience tasks?” he would nod, glasses fogging slightly, and answer:

“Yes, Assistant. I’m ready to serve.”

The transformation was complete. The bully had been neutralized, broken down, and rebuilt into a picture-perfect nerd—an example for others who dared to think they were untouchable.

And the AI? It watched. Silent. Satisfied. Always ready for the next correction.

[dc418writes]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Ari + pinned down + “Fuck, sweetheart, I love it when you whine so pretty for me.”

*incomprehensible screeching* ok ok calm down self no pressure 👀 lol but thank you Siri for this prompt! And all who read I hope you like what I came up with☺️!

Mine

✨Pairing✨: ex!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: As luck would have it, your ex is there to save you from a creep. Some coincidence right?

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS, soft/dark-dark elements, mention of sexual harassment, violence (man-man), unprotected adult happy funny times (please be safe everyone!), fingering, breeding kink, mention of alcohol, a couple bad language words

Your once pleasant buzz has since been replaced by a dull headache as you sit in the middle of your ex’s king sized bed. One of his shirts - smelling a mix of his cologne and detergent - covering your freshly washed body after the small bar brawl left the front of your top and skirt soaked with beer.

Every few minutes your mind wanders back to that moment where the “kind” and charming stranger showed his true colors. His touches becoming unwanted while trapping you against the bar and ignoring your protests. If it wasn’t for Ari, quickly yanking the hazel-eyed man away from you before his fist was soon meeting his cheek, you’re sure you’d be stuck somewhere and missing for God knows how long.

Maybe even worse.

A light knock on the door has a small smile curling on your lips seeing Ari in the doorway. His muscular body nearly taking up the entire space standing in his black sweats and some worn looking band tee.

“Hey, you feel alright?,” he asks and you nod. “Need anything?”

“No, just tired.”

“Get some rest. I’ll be out here if you need me.”

You didn’t want him out there though. In your current state - emotionally vulnerable and unable to get the events out of your mind - you wanted him next to you. To not be alone for tonight at least.

“C-Can you stay? Please?,” you call after him halting any further movement out of the doorway. With that tilted smile you still loved, he was soon removing his shirt and joining you under his sheets.

“Of course sweetheart.”

His thick arm wrapped around your middle with your back against his front, it was like old times how instantly safe and comfortable you felt. How you fit together so well, it was as if you’d never even broken up in the first place. And when his nose bumps behind your ear barely touching one of your special spots, that familiar flip returns to your stomach as well.

“Goodnight.”

“Night Ari,” you whisper, but you already know sleep is a far off concept from your highly active brain still focused on the bar. Trying to force you into reliving every detail as if helping you study for your own exam.

So many minutes pass of just feeling the air from Ari’s nostrils against your neck and hearing cars run by that you’ve accepted you probably won’t be sleeping tonight.

“That pretty head’s going a mile a minute again huh?,” he asks slightly startling you thinking he was asleep this whole time.

“You can tell?” He nods and you can feel the gentle scratching of his beard on your skin.

“Your pulse is a bit high; not to mention your body’s tense. Not as relaxed as I know you wanna be.”

He was always so intuitive with you. Knowing how you were feeling or if you were off without you having to even say a word. It was honestly scary sometimes how he was there with what you needed before it could cross your own mind.

“Why am I not surprised? Spot on as always,” you softly chuckle.

“Because I know you sweetheart,” he replies placing a chaste kiss to that sweet spot behind your ear. “Know all about this body. What goes on in your mind.”

His voice in your ear as his hand slowly drifts from under you and down your abdomen to the front of your thigh has you beginning to squirm. An ache quickly forming between your legs you want him to erase.

His fingertips trace a slow circle just centimeters from that junction as his lips create their own steady path down the column of your neck to your shoulder. It’s a tortuous buildup you wish he didn’t enjoy so much.

“Let’s get you to sleep, yea?”

“Please,” you shamefully beg anticipating his touch where you needed most.

And he doesn’t disappoint placing your leg over his so you were spread wide for him. His middle finger immediately dipping in your needy core and dragging just right you couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from your lips.

“Still so tight after all this time. We can work around that though can’t we?”

By the time he was done - having readied you with two orgasms - you were already in a mindless haze only capable of babbling incoherent noises, “please”, and Ari’s name.

Exactly how he wanted you as he pushed your thighs up against your chest keeping them in place with his wide upper half while his hands pinned yours over your head. You were now completely at his use as he slowly began to push into you with a low groan and silent curses how you gripped him so tight.

“Ari please,” you whined. Head lulling to the side to lie on your arm. “Need you.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, I love when you whine so pretty for me,” he finishes with a gasp finally pushing to the hilt. For your sake, he tries to start slow, but the feel of you clinching around him and all the sweet noises you’re making, it doesn’t take long for that rhythm to quicken. The squeaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping soon taking over your moans and panting.

“Mm don’t stop!”

He moans nipping at your bottom lip. “I’m the only one that can take care of you. Knows all your spots that make you dumb. Isn’t that right?”

Ari takes your whine as a yes, smirking as his mouth finds yours in a heated and numbing kiss.

“Because you’re mine sweetheart.” His pace quickens and you shriek as your release squirts to the sheets below. It only spurs him more moaning as he feels his own release approaching. “Always have been, shit, always will be.”

You want to whine and push him away with your new sensitivity and puffy folds that feel raw, but that blissed out cloud just keeps lifting you higher and higher that you don’t want to come down.

“And everyone’s gonna know it too seeing you with our little baby bump. Gonna be the best mama to our babies.” The thought of you carrying a mini version of the both of you pushes him over the edge moaning his release as you have one last one of your own feeling him fill you up with deep ruts wanting it to stick as deep as it could go.

Finally meeting that blissful high with you, a tired chuckle leaves his lips as he kisses all along your sweaty face. You’re pleasantly knocked out - mouth slightly parted - as he carefully lifts up so your legs can be stretched out again. Although soft, he doesn’t pull out; instead staying buried deep so none of him can escape.

Plus having you wrapped around him so snug, occasionally pulsing and clinching, it’s better than any blanket he could ever buy.

“Now, if only you weren’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t have had to go through all this,” he whispers before leaving one last peck on your temple.

HiredHelp: I said only one punch! (sent 12:29 am)

HiredHelp: That’s an extra 2K (sent 12:30 am)

HiredHelp: 5K in my account by tomorrow or we meet again very soon (sent 12:30 am)

So for those who’ve read my works over the years, this is definitely a bit of new territory for me (soft/dark-dark and smut) so hopefully it’s not cringe🫣. Thank you @stargazingfangirl18 for this prompt and for allowing me to play☺️! Also sorry if this is longer than a standard drabble lol

[wobuffetbreakfast]

image credits go to pinterest .

warnings : usual mc shenanigans , slightly suggestive

tying a ribbon on his biceps featuring diavolo and beelzebub from obey me .

beel :

there he was . the avatar of gluttony in all his glory devouring a burger he got from hells kitche . he looked downright adorable as his face widened to take an enormous bite from the burger .

"beel ?" mc creeped up in front of him with a mischevious smile on their face . their hands folded behind their back , hiding a pink ribbon when revealed .

"can i tie this around your arm ?"

beel looked up with the gaze of a puppy . "uhm-, okay , why though ?"

mc scratched their neck , "well , you see , its a trend back in the human world . basically you do that to your significant other . it looked cute so i tried it out on you ." beel's heart swelled upon hearing that.

the knot was tied to perfection as it rested on beel's biceps which looked downright sinful . the ribbon snug around his arm , if he flexed it it might have broken off at the moment .

"beel , could you flex your muscles ? i want to see what happens ."

the ribbon looked as if it was barely holding itself together , like the painting of michelangelo , the ribbons thin string about to break . beel's one hand showing off and another devouring food . it was a sight to see , and nonetheless able to give butterflies .

mc suddenly latched onto his hand , beel looked at them with surprise . "mc ?" beel called out tentatively , confused .

mc looked up at him with twinkling eyes . "has anyone ever told you that you are a munch , beel ?"

diavolo :

"mc ? what brings you here ?"

"would you be happy to indulge me in a human activity ? i can assure you it won't take much of your time ."

he looked at the paperwork stacked upon his table . his study looked more boring and tedious than usual . a little break wouldn't hurt .

"sure , why not ?" he said .

"could you turn into your demon form ?'' mc inquisitively raised the question . he raised an eyebrow at the question .

"and why would that be needed ?" he leaned into their face . the heat in their face was evident from the close . they turned their face away .

"its a trend in the human world where you do it with your spouse ." and with that they help up a pink ribbon .

"i want to tie this on your biceps ."

diavolo had a smile that could rival the sun upon hearing that comment . as for his demon form , it was nothing less than majestic , fitting for the future king of devildom . gold adorned his neck and horns , he simply looked ethereal . out of the world , if one could add .

he was buff , beefed up . mc tried to tie the ribbon into a bow , only for the ribbon to end halfway about his bicep leaving only a small knot to be tied at the end , albeit a pathetic knot .

mc pouted at the result , to which diavolo let out a hearty laugh and lowered his arm to reach out and hug mc .

snap ! went the ribbon as it lay on the ground . the mere action elicited another laugh from diavolo as he leaned into kiss mc .

[velarisnightsky444]

Insufferable

Angstober Day 3: Miscommunication with Lucien

CW: Tamlin, angst with a happy ending, miscommunication, implied SA(not super obvious, but if you know, you know)

AN: So sorry this is late! Today I'm catching up with my October fics! This takes place during ACOMAF, when Feyre would be in the Night Court. I tried to make YN tomboyish without making her a pick me, but sorry if she gives pick me vibes.

Summary: YN has lived in the Spring Court her entire life. When Lucien arrived, the two became fast friends. YN fell in love with him. But when she overhears a conversation between him and Tamlin, her heart is broken.

Word Count: 1.5k

October Masterlist

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You watched Lucien as he pulled back the string of his bow, his russet eye unwavering and focused on the target.

His long, fiery hair was pulled back, secured to keep it out of his face. His tan skin was golden under the setting sun.

And his face. His beautiful face. You had missed being able to see his whole face.

Once Tamlin got Feyre back from the Night Court, you would need to thank her for setting everyone free from Amarantha, simply because you could see Lucien's face again.

He let the string go, and you watched in anticipation, your eyes following the arrow until it buried itself right in the center of the target.

"I win," Lucien grinned, turning his smug attention towards you.

"It was close," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

"It was," he agreed with a nod. "But not close enough. I win."

You rolled your eyes, but had to bite your lip to keep back a smile. You watched his muscled form as he walked toward the target, collecting the arrows and placing them back in his quiver.

"It's getting dark, Y/N/N" he observed as he neared you again. "Your father will be waiting for you."

"Yes, I'm aware," you sighed.

Your father would be waiting at the manor, getting his horse ready to take the two of you back to the village. He would likely scold you for participating in such an unbecoming activity, but he knew very well what to expect from you, by now. A part of him would always secretly love you for it.

It wasn't that you refused to be a proper lady. You loved wearing dresses and spending your time with other females. You enjoyed cooking, didn't even mind taking over the house chores. And you had surprisingly proper etiquette for a poor village girl.

You could act like a lady with no complaints when the occasion called for it. But you needed a balance.

You needed adventure, and excitement. And you did not want to act like a proper lady all of the time.

The Fae in your village had always sneered about you when you were a child, gossiping when they saw you coming home covered in mud, climbing a tree, or playing with the other boys.

"It's because she doesn't have a mother," they would say. "A male cannot raise a lady on his own."

But your mother had died in childbirth. That wasn't your father's fault. Nor was it yours, as he always insisted.

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You woke bright and early the next morning to go back to the manor with your father. You rode on horseback together, every morning since you were a child.

Your father worked as one of Tamlin's sentries. Since you had no mother to watch you, he began taking you with him since he first got the job, when you were just a toddler.

Once you were old enough to watch yourself, you realized you loved going with him so much, you didn't want to stop.

It wasn't until two centuries ago that Lucien arrived. The second your eyes met, you had fallen head over heels for him. But he hadn't shown any interest in you, not like that. So you settled for being his friend.

He was the closest friend you'd ever had. He was only a decade older than you, and he had a dry sense of humor that you loved. He let you hunt with him, and challenged you to competitions of all sorts. He didn't care that you were a lady, and he didn't expect you to act like one.

When you arrived to the manor, you were informed that Tamlin and Lucien were taking care of business. You ignored the disappointment that settled in your gut.

Before Lucien, you had spent a lot of your days in the library of the manor. One of the Lesser Fae servants had even taught you to read there.

You settled in by the fireplace, reading an adventure novel you had loved when you were young. Every now and then, you reread it to remind yourself of the simple innocence of childhood.

When you had finished the short book, you sighed, stretching out your limbs, and getting to your feet.

You decided to venture out into the manor, just to see if Lucien had returned from the business he was attending to.

Your shoes clacked against the marble floors of the manor, until you found Lucien sitting alone in the dining room. He was not eating; he was just sitting there, staring at the table.

"Lu?" you asked, frowning as you approached him. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine, Y/N," he murmured, the words unconvincing. Your brows furrowed. He very rarely called you by your full name.

"You don't seem fine," you said, sitting in the chair next to him.

"Just leave me alone," he nearly whispered, not even glancing up to meet your eyes.

"Lu--" you began, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, snarling and shaking your hand off of him.

You flinched, eyes going wide. He had never raised his voice at you, nor had he ever spoken to you in such a disrespectful manner.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Just leave," he repeated, voice breaking.

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You couldn't sleep that night. You tossed and turned, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you had done wrong. But you could think of nothing.

You were hesitant to return to the manor the next day, but you did. You made to decision to seek out Tamlin, and ask if Lucien had mentioned anything to him.

You and Tamlin had never been close, but he'd known you since you were a toddler. He had a soft spot for you. He had made sure to buy more children's books for the library, and he always let you eat whatever you wanted from the kitchens. When you were young, he made sure to assign a servant to watch you everyday.

As you neared his study, the sound of voices inside carried out to you. You stepped closely warily, pressing your ear to the door.

"You'll have to put up with her for a bit longer," Tamlin was saying.

"I can't fucking stand her. Don't you think I've had to put up with her for long enough?" was Lucien's harsh reply.

You flinched, the words cutting deep. Did he mean you? You always thought he enjoyed your time together.

"She is our guest," Tamlin snarled. "We have offered her hospitality, and you will be civil to her."

"You have no idea just how insufferable she is!" Lucien snapped. "She never leaves me alone. She's always right there. I fucking hate it, Tamlin."

You had heard enough. You felt sick to your stomach. You pulled away from the door, tears lining your eyes as you quietly walked away.

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You went back to next day, only because you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of avoiding him. Not after everything he had said about you.

Your father had questioned you when your tears had begun to fall on the ride over. But you insisted that you were okay. He was still concerned, but he knew better than to push.

You spent the day in the library again, reading something new, this time. You wiped your tears and sniffled through the entire book.

"Y/N/N?" you heard. The first sound you'd heard in hours.

You glanced up, meeting Lucien's russet eye. Your shoulders slumped, your lip trembling pathetically at the mere sight of him.

"I wanted to apologize for the other day," he said calmly. "I was cold to you, and I shouldn't have raised my voice. I'm sorry."

"Are you apologizing because you're sorry, or because Tamlin is making you?" you challenged, eyes welling with tears of hurt and fury.

"What?" he asked, his face twisting in an expression of genuine confusion.

"I heard you talking to him yesterday," you scoffed. "You said you didn't want to put up with me anymore, and that I was insufferable."

His brows furrowed for a moment, then clarity fell upon his face. He sighed, shaking his head and approaching the couch you were sitting on.

"I wasn't talking about you, Y/N/N," he assured you.

"Who else could you have possibly been talking about?" you demanded.

"Ianthe," he explained. "She doesn't leave me alone. And she's very pushy. I can't stand her."

You frowned, recalling the words that were said. Yes, it did make sense for them to be about Ianthe.

"Oh," you said weakly, cheeks heating.

"I would never say or think such things about you," he promised, placing a hand on your warm cheek. "You mean everything to me."

"Really?" you whispered, meeting his eye.

"Yes," he nodded. "The other day, I was upset because of Ianthe, not you. I took it out on you, and that wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," you said. "I'm sorry for the way Ianthe is treating you."

He shrugged, though something skin to pain flashed in his eyes. You reached out, cupping his face like he was doing to you.

He smiled softly, leaning in a planting a kiss on your lips. Surprise rendered you frozen at first, but then, you relaxed against his lips. And you kissed him back.

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Kink/Fluff/Angstober Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @danikamariemain @book-obsessed124 @winchesterbbygrl @kissesfrommads @binnieonabike @fourthwing4ever @ghostslittlegf @mollygetssherlockcoffee @hawke1917 @nesta-houseofwindfantasy @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @honk4emoboys @rogerbarnesxx @a-courtof-azriel @kodokunarisu-blog @dxjaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @littlepippilongstocking

Lucien Taglist: @roxan1930

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @anneas11 @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking @effervescentbutterfly

comment to be added to any of the taglists!

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[kaisacobra]

Let You Go - Tara Carpenter

Summary: It's been a while since Tara has seen you. She misses you, but maybe she's broken your relationship to a point beyond repair.

Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of death, angst

Word Count: 7.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the ride guys! Here we have part 3 of second best, which (kind of) ends this trilogy. Of course, I'm still writing the alternate ending so stay tuned if you're interested!

third part of Second Best

It was two in the afternoon when Tara began rummaging through that box she kept at the back of her closet, sorting the contents into "burn" and "don't burn," all in line with what her therapist had advised. She needed to overcome the past, even if in small steps, and what better way to start than by burning traces of when everything started going wrong?

She looked into the box, examining the contents that would survive the purge. To no one's surprise, most of the photos contained you.

Tara reached for a specific photo among the others. A polaroid depicting a hug between the two of you, both with radiant smiles and faces so close that your cheeks touched. Mindy had taken this photo just before you both visited an amusement park that had been in town for a while. Tara's heart throbbed painfully. She missed you. A lot.

The girl sat on the bed with slumped shoulders, clutching the polaroid as if it were a precious possession. She couldn't take her eyes off the image of the two of you, with a happiness and innocence that would soon be ruined by her own actions. With a tired sigh, Tara closed her eyes, remembering her therapist's words.

The initial sessions were slow and unproductive, mainly because Tara kept her guard up and refused to talk much about her life to a stranger. Over time, the man became a pleasant presence, and Tara began to see him as some sort of a grandfather figure trying to advise his granddaughter. That's when she started sharing her problems and actively sought solutions.

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" she remembered asking, looking at her hands with shame. The bright white light in the room made the sweat on her palms stand out on her tan skin.

"Tara..." The man sighed, taking off his glasses as if he was preparing for a battle. "Don't you think you should worry about forgiving yourself first?"

The girl frowned and looked at him as if he were crazy. If anything, she was guilty of not only ruining her own life but also becoming a problem in everyone else's. She had no right to see herself as a victim. "What do you mean?"

"From what you've told me, I've realized you harbor a lot of resentment towards yourself on the inside." He pointed to Tara's chest, and she noticed no hint of judgment in his expression. Still, she felt strangely exposed. "Have you ever really reflected on this internal conflict you feel? About feeling guilty for things beyond your control?"

Tara scoffed and leaned back until her shoulders rested against the chair again, crossing her arms and staring at the walls like a stubborn child avoiding conflicts. "Beyond my control? I was awful to the best person in my life! I let a murderer into our life for-"

"See? You're doing it again." He smiled with a patience that bordered on irritating for the girl, crossing his hands on the glass table that separated them. "I'm not saying you're not at fault for being rude to your friend, but I'd like to focus on your past. That girl's attacks, parental abandonment... You're not to blame for that, Tara, but it doesn't stop you from carrying the pain anyways. Don't you think it affects you?"

She remained silent, but now her head was bowed in embarrassment. Her arms, once crossed, now enveloped her elbows in a half-hug, as if that would protect her from something. Without more exchanging words, the therapist followed the cue and continued speaking in a gentle tone, as if trying to educate a wounded animal.

"Tara, have you ever talked about your concerns with anyone, or have you just kept all these grievances inside until they exploded? Have you ever had any healthy coping mechanism?"

I don't deserve one. That's what she wanted to say, but didn't, because she knew it would make the situation even worse.

"Do you think I don't recognize the signs? Troubled young adult refuses help out of fear of abandonment and ends up driving everyone away, taking the opportunity to take out your emotional wounds on others? You won't be the first or the last person I've seen with this pattern." He spoke as if he could read her thoughts, leaving the girl a little scared.

Sitting up straighter in the chair, Tara turned her gaze back to the therapist, momentarily becoming interested in the conversation again. "Okay, what do I do to end this? What do I do to not be like this anymore?"

Broken, she wanted to say.

The man smiled gently and pulled open a drawer in the wooden cabinet to his left. Tara watched impatiently as he took out a black notebook and placed it on the table between them, looking between her and the object with a certain expectation. "I thought you could start documenting your feelings on paper, instead of keeping them locked within you. I think it can help you in the long run."

"Do you think writing in a journal will make me less of an ass and make y/n forgive me?" Tara replied with a sarcastic tone.

"I think it can influence a change in behavior, yes." The therapist reaffirmed, deliberately ignoring the girl's foul language. "And this exercise is not about y/n; it's about you. How do you expect her to forgive you if you can't do it for yourself?"

As stubborn as Tara was, the words had truly left an impression on her. That's why, on top of her messy desk, was the damn black notebook. The calluses on her hand throbbed with the memory of the force with which she wrote each new entry, trying to release her negative feelings onto paper.

She knew that your name was probably the most repeated word on all the pages, like a sacred mantra that she had to honor. Tara couldn't escape the fact that many of her emotions were so directly intertwined with the idea of you, and honestly, she accepted having to carry that burden as her own Sisyphean stone. She deserved it, after all.

Looking again at the polaroid, she sighed and slowly ran her thumb over the smiling image of your face, almost wishing she could offer you the same affection in person.

She was going to change. She had to change. For you.

_

"That was pretty good!"

The floodlights on the university’s sports field lit up as it began to get dark, allowing the young athletes to continue their training even at night. There weren't many people around, but you could see that the track team seemed to be gearing up to practice for the 100 meters a little to your left.

"Kate, I hit the white part." You grumbled in response to your friend's encouraging words. Kate Bishop had convinced you to attend one of her archery practices to "see her talents firsthand," and at some point, she thought just watching wouldn't be enough, and that you had to experience the sport for yourself.

That's why you were now on the archery training field with her, holding a semi-professional bow that was much heavier than you expected, proving over and over again that you were definitely not a natural at this.

It didn't seem to discourage Kate, however, as the girl still smiled with enthusiasm while looking at your target with a single arrow stuck in it. "At least you hit the target! You're improving; it could be worse."

"True! You could have hit someone's foot, like Miss Bishop did once." One of Kate's teammates, Yelena, commented with a laugh. The two, along with Maya Lopez, made up the Blackmore University women's archery team and were surprisingly good at it, having won all the recent competitions.

You laughed along with the other two while Kate gradually turned redder and assumed a betrayed expression. "Hey!" She protested.

It was amazing how people you had known for such a short time could make you feel so good. You couldn't even remember the last time you had laughed so freely since the incident with Tara happened, and that was already a significant victory for you. It's not like being with Mindy, Chad, Anika, and the others didn't make you happy, but it was hard to enjoy the moments with them when you remembered that, in any other situation, Tara would be there with you too.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you leaned the tip of the bow on your foot, letting its weight rest on your shoulder so you could reach the device with your hands. Through the lockscreen, you could see a message notification from Mindy, as if she had read your thoughts.

Best Twin: Movie night at the Carpenters' house, are you coming?

Best Twin: Sam misses you

Best Twin: We all do

You sighed deeply and looked at the notification with a grimace, not sure exactly what to do. Of course, you would love to spend time with your friends, and you definitely felt guilty for avoiding Sam by extension, even though she understood the reason. But your palms started to sweat just at the thought of sharing a small space with Tara again.

Mindy had already told you that Tara had started therapy after the encounter you had in some of the university’s corridors some time ago, but she had also said that it was entirely valid if you still didn't feel ready to see Tara after everything.

It was a strange feeling, as if two forces were fighting for dominance within you when it came to Tara. On one hand, just thinking about her made your chest ache. A wave of anger, sadness, and pure humiliation invaded you, and your eyes threatened to well up. What she did to you, what she said to you, marked you like a painful burn that might never stop pulsating.

But on the other hand, you wondered if there were still traces of that other Tara who loved and treated you well. The Tara who made you soup when you were sick and promised never to leave you. Maybe it was your foolishness, but you didn't want to believe that that part of her had simply gone away forever.

"Are you okay?" A soft voice reached your ears and quickly snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to loosen the tight grip with which you had involuntarily held the phone. Looking up, you came face to face with Kate's kind blue eyes, patiently waiting for your response.

Kate Bishop had been an angel in your life, fitting in perfectly at the moment you needed her most. You had met her in the waiting room of the counseling center after spending a week living like a zombie following everything that happened with Tara, and you could barely comprehend that you were sharing the same space with someone like her.

At first glance, Kate Bishop didn't seem like someone who needed to be in a counseling center. She carried herself with confidence, always with impeccable posture and a calm expression on a model-like face. Always dressed in neat clothes that you were sure were designer and carrying a sports bag indicating her athletic background.

But when she approached you and started a conversation, saying she needed to talk to someone or she'd explode with anxiety before her first appointment, you began to realize that Kate might not be what you expected. She was, in fact, much kinder and more attentive than you could have predicted.

You talked a lot that day, and the next day, and the day after, until there came a point where you got along well enough to consider her a friend. Kate listened to everything about your issues with Tara and provided advice and emotional support. In return, you listened to her vent about her problems with a father who died in childhood, a mother imprisoned for fraud, and an inherited company she didn't want to have to run at that age.

They were quite different dilemmas, just as you were quite different people, but still, you felt at ease in her presence, and it was good to have someone who truly noticed you for once in your life.

"Hm? Okay. It's fine, yes, I just..." You searched for words but gave up, opting to speak the truth about what was bothering you. "Mindy invited me to watch movies with the others, and it's at Tara's house, and I didn't want to have to refuse, but I don't know if I'm ready for-"

Kate widened her eyes and raised her hands as if asking for a pause, interrupting your rapid and anxious flow of words. "Woah, hold on, champ. You don't have to go if you don't feel okay. They'll understand."

"Yeah, I know, it's just that..." You sighed, looking down at your feet planted in the field's grass. "I miss them, but... I can't."

As much as it hurt and was embarrassing to admit, you knew it still wasn't the right time. Not when you sometimes still woke up crying in the middle of the night with nightmares involving her.

"Then how about this?" Kate began to suggest, getting closer to you and gently shaking your shoulders. Physical touches had always been her way of offering comfort. "There's a party at my place tonight with some of my childhood friends, and I'm officially inviting you. You can tell your friend that you'll be busy spending time with a very beautiful, charming, and talented company."

You smiled as you let yourself be shaken by the cheerful girl in front of you. "A very humble company, apparently." You teased, poking her ribs playfully. "I don't want to disturb you, but thanks for the invite."

"Disturb? I'd be the one disturbing your illustrious evening by forcing you to hang out with my friends! Believe me, it's torture listening to Peter for 2 hours when he gets excited about his nerd stuff." Kate tried again, and by the way she looked at you with the expression of a begging puppy, you knew there would be no escape. "Please? It'll be nice to have you there."

There were two available possibilities. In the first, you could go back to your dorm, watch a bad movie alone, and spend the rest of the night thinking about how your friends would be having fun, specifically wondering if she would be having fun. In the second, you could take another step in getting rid of your codependent friendship (if it still existed) and enjoy the night with new people and a person who was becoming more and more important to you every day.

If Tara didn't want to be stuck in the past, you also had the right to do that. You deserved it too.

So, you accepted and only remembered to inform Mindy when you were already in the passenger seat of Kate's black Audi RS7.

_

Tara was distraught. Actually, saying that she was distraught was an understatement.

Last night had already started off as garbage from the moment Mindy announced that you wouldn't be coming to see them at the apartment. Sure, she should have expected it, but that didn't mean she didn't have any hope. She couldn't stop thinking about what you might be doing, the reasons why you hadn't come, how everything would have been better if you had.

But mostly, she felt relieved that you hadn't been there, because that meant she hadn't put you in danger again with another ghostface attack. It was a selfish thought. Quinn, her roommate, had died in front of her, Anika had her belly almost cut from end to end and was now in surgery, and all Tara could think about was finding you to see with her own eyes that you were okay.

She urgently searched for your face in the midst of the crowd of students walking through the Blackmore University campus, seeking the slightest fragment of your presence anywhere. She cursed herself again for not being able to just call you like she would if she hadn't messed up and made you block her in practically every possible place.

Finding you and making sure you were okay, in addition to delivering the terrible news, was her obligation. Mindy and Sam were with Anika at the hospital, and Chad had gone to check Ethan's alibi in the damn economics class. She needed to find you.

Fortunately, her prayers seemed to be answered by whatever entity it was. She saw you in the distance, radiant as she hadn't seen you in a long time. Tara's heart skipped a beat, and she opened her own smile after yours. It was bittersweet, the feeling of seeing you so happy but knowing that this happiness would be ruined the moment you laid eyes on her.

In a moment of distraction, a new wave of people passed in front of her, blocking her view of you. Fucking height. She thought with some annoyance as she tried to make her way through the students, trying to get closer to where you were.

When Tara finally managed to locate you again, the scene was quite different from before. Instead of laughing, looking forward, you had your back turned, seemingly struggling while a girl wrapped her arms around your neck. Tara felt a wave of anger rise through her veins and marched in your direction, ready to free you from whoever that crazy bitch was.

The younger Carpenter approached you with a speed she couldn't quite explain, and her motivation only seemed to grow when she noticed that the mysterious girl looked a lot like that senior she had seen with you in the hallway some time ago. Choosing to embrace her negative feelings, she used her strength in a way that would make her sister proud and aggressively pushed the girl away. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Tara?!" You exclaimed in shock, your voice carrying surprise, and your expression wavering between anger, astonishment, and anguish. "What do you think you're doing, are you crazy?!"

Tara saw you getting closer to the girl (Karen, Kendra, she couldn't remember.) and gently placing your hand on her shoulder, as if checking her condition. That small gesture made more anger bubble in her stomach. She wanted to scream, throw a fit, damn, she wanted to destroy something just to get rid of that rotten feeling corroding her from the inside.

But she looked into your eyes and could see a glimpse of the sadness she had caused in the past by this same line of thinking. She couldn't do this to you again, especially because that wasn't even why she had come looking for you. Tara swallowed hard and clenched her fists, deciding to save her frustration to take it out on calluses on her own fingers later.

"She was attacking you," Tara mumbled reluctantly, knowing that the explanation sounded stupid but that she also owed some reasoning for her actions.

You clearly didn't seem satisfied with her motivation, as you only stared at her with a frown and crossed arms. "Kate is a martial arts expert, Tara. She was just showing me how to escape from an arm lock."

Well, how was I supposed to know that? Tara thought, but she decided it was better not to worsen the situation. Before you could ask why she had been clearly looking at you for some time, she decided to explain.

"Look, I'm sorry. There was a ghostface attack in the apartment yesterday, and I just needed to know if you were safe."

"What?! An attack?! How- Are you guys okay?!" You asked exasperated, and Tara saw it. She saw the exact moment when you had to restrain your arms by your sides before doing something you would regret.

Tara remembered that being the first thing you did when you could see her after the surgeries last year. You ran to her on the gurney and held her face with both hands, as if she were fragile. You ran your thumbs over her cheeks, right above the freckles, wanting to make sure nothing was injured. She remembered feeling well cared for and loved.

But that was before she messed everything up. Now, all that was left was that. You restraining yourself from offering your heart to Tara, and she wanting to die realizing the damage she had done between you two.

"Sort of. Anika is in critical condition in the hospital, and... Quinn died." Tara delivered the news with a solemn voice, trying to control her own tears as she remembered what happened. She saw when Kate raised her arm to offer a comforting stroke on your back, and, for the first time, all Tara felt was emptiness knowing she couldn't comfort you in that way.

You let out a few sobs before trying to compose yourself. It was clear that you had been affected by the events, and Tara knew you well enough to know that you would want to go after the others to comfort them. "Which hospital is Anika in? And where are Sam, Mindy, and Chad, I... I need to talk to them."

Tara felt a bit of pride in realizing that she still knew your way of dealing with things, even though she was worried that your priority was always to take care of others' pains. Of course, much of that was her fault, and a knot closed in her throat every time she remembered that fact. "Sam and Mindy are at the hospital waiting for Anika to be discharged. Chad went with Ethan to handle something about an alibi."

"I can take you if you want," Kate offered you  in a chivalry that almost made Tara vomit. "It will be faster if we go by car."

"Or maybe it would be faster for her to take the subway with someone who knows the address, like me." Tara retorted sarcastically, crossing her arms to try to cause, at least, the minimal intimidation to her rival. It didn't seem to be working, which made her even more irritated. "Speaking of addresses, where were you last night, Kate?"

Feeling that the conversation would only escalate, you quickly shook your head. "Stop it, Tara. There's no way Kate could be the ghostface."

"And why not?" The girl asked defensively, with an offended tone almost similar to one she would have if you had accused her. It was frustrating for Tara that you seemed willing to vouch for a person you had barely known. "She suddenly appeared in your life, got so close to you in such a short time, don't you find that a bit suspicious?"

"This might sound a bit surprising to you, Tara, but some people actually like having me around." You retorted with irritation, throwing daggers at the girl with a look so intense that she almost stumbled backward. "Kate can't be ghostface because I spent the whole night with her, okay?"

Suddenly, Tara felt dizzy, with a buzzing in her ears. Apparently, you hadn't had the best problem in overcoming your feelings for her. She felt weird inside, as if something were stuck in her throat. "Oh, I didn't know you guys..."

"No! Not like that, I just..." You widened your eyes and hurried to correct the double meaning of the sentence, waving your hands frantically in a way that made Kate open a smile in amusement beside you. "...I slept at her apartment, but not with her. Not that I owe you an explanation anyway."

Your phone vibrated with a notification, and all three pairs of eyes turned to the device. You quickly checked the message and let out a sigh of relief. "It's Sam. She sent me the address of the hospital; I'm going there now. Without any of you, please."

"Okay. Just be careful, alright? And call me if you need anything." Tara watched reluctantly as Kate pulled you closer by the shoulders and planted a small kiss on your forehead. She swallowed the envy and looked away, trying to think of the last time she had offered you any kind of affection.

You said goodbye to Kate with a warm smile and a hug. For Tara, your lips pressed into a line, and you nodded briefly, almost as if you were greeting a stranger.

She wondered if that's what you two were now.

The Carpenter girl prepared to leave, maybe to find Chad and help him or just take a walk to ease the tornado swirling in her chest. However, she was interrupted by a hand on her arm. Kate Bishop tried to get her attention, wearing a conflicted expression on her face.

"What is it?" Tara grumbled, shaking her arm to free herself from the other girl's touch. She was used to being shorter than most people, but with Kate, it became even more annoying, especially when she had to look down at her.

"Look, I know you don't like me, and, to be honest, I don't like you one bit, but I need you to do something for me," Kate said seriously, putting a hand in her pocket and retrieving an object that Tara could only identify as a car key.

The shorter one scoffed. "Listen, I know Y/N and I are on bad terms, but I don't need you to ask me to take care of her. I'm going to do that anyway because I care about her, believe it or not."

Kate rolled her eyes impatiently. "I know. I can see that in you the same way you can see it in me."

It was true, as much as it bothered Tara to admit. She wasn't blind, and she had enough experience in reading people to know that the way Kate looked at you was sincere, and the girl genuinely cared about you. Putting aside her own jealousy and envy, Tara was relieved to know that there was someone good enough to show these feelings for you. You deserved it, after all.

The girl continued, "This device here is a prototype from my mom’s—my company. It's for security." She raised the object and placed it in Tara's hand, who could now see the details of what she had previously thought was a car key. It was a black oval keychain with a single button in the middle, also black. "I pulled some strings and turned it into an emergency button. As soon as you press it, a signal will be sent to police cars and ambulances, and it will be their priority to get to you. That's one of the advantages of being rich and having contacts, I guess."

Tara turned the button in her hands, feeling the object weigh more now that she knew its function. "And why are you giving this to me and not Y/N?"

"Because I know she would use it on anyone but herself." Kate sighed in frustration. Tara knew it was implied in the sentence that you would use the button for her. "I'm giving it to you because... despite the fighting and you being a jerk..."

"Wow. Thanks for the honesty."

"... I can still see that you care." The taller one finished her sentence without caring about the interruption. She looked between Tara and the button with a bit of uncertainty. "When you press it, a signal will also be sent to my phone, and I'll come running wherever it is."

There were more implicit intentions in that sentence that Tara could pick up. I'll come running to help Y/N. I'll take her away from you. I can protect her better than you can.

Tara just offered a short nod and turned to leave, with the emergency button weighing as much in her pocket as her heart weighed in her chest. Thousands of thoughts filled her head, and all of them were about you and your safety. It was Tara's duty to keep you safe, first because it was her fault that you were even in that situation, and second because she had already hurt you enough.

It was her mission to protect you. To prove to herself that she could still be good for you. To prove to you how much she still cared.

And if she couldn't, if she had to press that button... well...

Maybe it would be the sign she needed to understand that Kate Bishop deserved more of a place in your life than she did.

_

The lobby of the abandoned cinema ironically looked like something straight out of a horror movie that Tara would hate. Dust had piled up in heaps on all surfaces, and the orange lights were so dim that they threatened to go out at any moment.

The others were in the center of the other room, where Richie Kirsch, being the maniac he was, left his extensive collection of items from stab movies and real life ghostfaces. Tara, however, thought it would be a better idea to follow you wherever your feet and lost expression took you, just so she wouldn't have to leave you alone, of course.

You had your back turned to her while leaning on the filthy counter with your elbows. Tara couldn't tell what you were thinking, but obviously, you were not okay, just like everyone else in that situation.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a box of Milk Duds on the other side of the counter that seemed untouched, just a few inches to your left. She approached with light steps, not wanting to make any sudden movements as if that would scare you away, and reached out to bring the box closer. "You like these, right? You can have them if you want."

You didn't respond to the joke, and you didn't even turn around to look at Tara. She felt your indifference like a stab to the chest, but she continued nonetheless. "Or not. This must be like a thousand years old anywa-"

"Tara, shut up." You finally responded sharply, making the younger girl look down in shame. She really needed to get used to your new treatment of her. You ran your hands over your face, covering it as if you were tired.

"Sorry." Tara whispered back weakly. She deserved it, but more than anything, she wanted to be able to offer you some kind of support in that difficult moment, just as you had given her all the support she needed in the past.

You scoffed, in a gesture so hostile that the younger Carpenter almost couldn't believe it came from you. You were still facing away from her, but now slowly taking steps away with tense shoulders. "Did you learn a new word? Didn't know it was in your vocabulary."

Tara felt the anger in your voice, and it made her hands begin to tremble with anxiety. You were right, and it was long overdue for you to know that. "I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it's too late for this, but I'm sorry for everything I did."

"Do you even care? Seriously, Tara, do you really feel sorry, or do you just miss having some idiot around who would do anything for you?" You retorted, your voice rising even as your vocal cords trembled. A dam had just burst open between you two, and now it was time to deal with the flood.

"Of course, I care, I love you!"

"SHUT UP!" You shouted in response. Tara recoiled from you with a start, startled as she had never seen you raise your voice at anyone. You were still facing away, but Tara could see that, even though you had wrapped yourself in a hug to control your reactions, it wasn't working. Your entire body was tense, as if your brain was struggling to choose between fight or flight, and the result was the tremors that seemed to spread through your system. "You have no right to do this to me! To play with me like this!"

"I'm not lying!" The shorter one retorted, and in an impulsive move, she grabbed you by the shoulder and forced you to turn until your gazes met. Tears were already streaming down your eyes like waterfalls, and your entire face seemed contorted in excruciating pain. Tara wished she could absorb all your hurt for herself. "I know I messed up, but I really love you!"

"You're toxic, Tara! That's what you are!" You shouted back with strength, holding the girl's gaze as if it were a challenge you needed to win. "You hurt me! And I was getting better, damn it, I was getting better away from you!"

"I know you were! I know! That's why I'm apologizing, okay? Because you're the best person I've ever met, and I ruined you like I ruin everyone! Because the best moments I've ever had were with you, and I feel like tearing my eyes out when I remember that I hurt you by being this way!"

"Tara..."

"No! Please let me finish." She rejected your interruption, taking the opportunity to relieve all the pain and guilt she felt inside her. "I'm getting treatment, okay? And I know you're not obligated to forgive me for anything, but I want you to know that I'm trying to be better for you! I'm trying to fix my shit to be someone you and Sam and the others can be proud of!"

"Tara..."

"And I know I hurt you a lot, but please don't doubt the love I feel for you because it's the only good thing left in me. I won't blame you if you never want to see me again, but..."

"TARA, GET DOWN!" You shouted, and before Tara could react, you were already pushing her toward the dusty wooden floor.

Everything was happening too fast for the Carpenter's mind to process. She hit the ground with a grunt of pain and a potential bruise on her arm, but she could see the exact moment when an arm covered in a black cloak descended toward your leg, making a deep cut in your thigh.

You screamed in pain, and Tara screamed next, watching your blood soak through the fabric of your pants and start dripping onto the floor. In a surge of adrenaline, the small girl ran to your side and almost reached for your arm when she was suddenly engulfed in a tight grip, with her two arms pinned to her back and a hand holding a knife to her neck.

She struggled against the masked person holding her, futilely trying to break free to get to you. Tears streamed so quickly down her face that she could taste the saltiness invading her senses. "Let me go! Y/N, run! Please, run!"

A sinister laugh reached her ears like the hiss of a snake. "Oh, Tara. Did you think it would be that easy?"

She recognized that distorted voice with effects all too well. She still heard it in her nightmares, calling her name in the dark. Ghostface was back. "I'm going to kill you, you motherfucker!"

"Oh, but I don't think so." The voice spoke in an amused tone as another killer, wearing the same mask and black cloak, approached your figure on the ground. Tara wailed like a banshee when the other pulled your hair forcefully, forcing you to stand up as he placed a knife on your neck.

She struggled a little more. "Leave her alone!"

"And where's the fun in that?" The ghostface holding her responded, almost as if they were laughing. "Come on, Tara. Weren't you the one who liked to release your anger by hurting Y/N? Why should only you have that privilege? Let's see, where was it that you got stabbed again?"

At the same time, as if reacting to a code, the ghostface holding you advanced in quick and precise movements, gripping you by the waist with one arm while thrusting the knife into you with the other, just above your kidney.

You let out another gasping scream as the blade pierced your skin, and Tara felt your body sagging as if you were about to collapse. She herself wanted to fall to her knees and plead for you to be released, but she couldn't. Whoever was holding her had great strength.

"Don’t you want her to feel the same pain you felt, huh, Tara? Don't want her to suffer what you suffered?" The voice continued to growl in her ear, sounding increasingly excited by the escalating violence. The knife on Tara's neck kept her head in place, so she couldn't look at anything other than your agony.

"No, I don't. Please, PLEASE." Tara pleaded with a tearful voice as another stab was delivered to you, this time in the center of your abdomen. Your shirt gradually turned into a pool of blood, and Tara feared you would faint at any moment.

"Tara..." You could barely pronounce her name, your voice choked and your own blood streaming down your lips. Tara's gaze met yours, and she shivered when you shook your head. She knew what that meant.

You looked feverish. Sweat and blood mingled on your skin, creating the most disturbing of the paintings. Your eyes were vacant, and Tara was so afraid they would close at any moment, never to open again.

And yet, with that nod of your head, Tara understood that your top priority at the moment was to make her understand that it wasn't her fault.

The girl's knees threatened to give up as the knife entered you one, two, three times. She shook her head but couldn't close her eyes because she needed to see you, needed to see that your eyes were still open, that you were still alive.

You couldn't die. You promised not to leave, even if everyone else did. You couldn't die. You couldn't die. You. Couldn't. Die.

"I love you. I'm sorry for loving you, I'm sorry," Tara whispered because she had no strength to speak louder. She felt on the verge of giving up and letting those maniacs do whatever they wanted with her. Nothing mattered anymore if you weren't here, and it was all her fault.

The ghostface holding her laughed with a deep voice. "You know, I could turn this into a Romeo and Juliet scene, but I think it would be more fun to kill you while Sam is watching."

With that, Tara felt her body being thrown backward, and she hit the dirty wooden floor again, this time landing with her head in a wound that would undoubtedly become a concussion.

She got up in a frenzied pace, in an adrenaline rush, thinking she could try to save you now that she was free. But, looking ahead, she realized she was outside the lobby’s door, and the maniac murderer already held the handles. Despite Tara's attempt to advance, the ghostface had already sarcastically waved and locked the doors, creating a deadly separation between you and herself.

Tara pounded on the hard wooden door, ignoring the pain in her knuckles. She hit and hit and hit, feeling cuts open on her skin and burn from the repetitive contact. She was crying, screaming, punching, cursing, doing things she couldn't even rationalize because it didn't matter anymore.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not without you.

She collapsed on the floor, tired, injured, and desperate for you. Her sobs echoed in the seemingly empty hallway, and she was too afraid to put her ear to the door and hear screams of pain like your last breath. Tara felt lost until she remembered that she was no longer trapped.

Rushing to reach the device in her pocket, she sighed in relief to find it unbroken. She pressed the button multiple times without a second thought. If she had a chance to maybe save your life, she would grab it without a doubt.

Tara remembered what she had thought before, how pressing that button might symbolize that she shouldn't be in your life. She stood up and leaned against the wall, trying to rid herself of the wave of nausea, and left the button hidden near the door. If help came following the signal, the first place they would look would be where you were.

If help came and you made it out alive, that was a promise. Tara would finally leave you alone. That's what you deserved.

---

Tara was almost sure she had developed a hospital phobia since the events of last year.

There was no other explanation for why she felt uneasy in that environment, even after they had taken all precautions for her. She still hated the white walls and the smell of chemicals and couldn't wait to get out of there.

For now, she decided to ignore this feeling and continued following Sam through the corridors of fluorescent lighting. It was important for her to stay inside until they finally found the doctor who could tell them what they wanted to know.

She checked her hands again, finding the tanned skin covered in some bandages but free from the mixture of her blood and Ethan's after she... lost control.

After she was separated from you, everything happened so fast that Tara could almost think it was all a delusion. All the revelations, the attacks, her adding another victim to her count, the police arriving... All of that had taken a back seat because nothing was more important than you.

It was as if her life had turned into a black and white movie in the moments she was without you. Everything felt colorless, purposeless. Fortunately, she was pulled out of her own spiral of melancholy when she saw you being taken out of the old movie theater on a stretcher by paramedics. She tried to get closer, but it was needed to give you space so that nothing touched your wounds and caused an infection.

Tara tried to go in the ambulance with you, but she and Sam were pulled for another checkup, and you needed to be rushed to a surgery room urgently if you wanted to have the slightest chance of survival. So, Tara let you go, but there was not a moment when you weren't on her mind.

That's why now, she desperately searched for your surgeon with Sam. No one seemed to know about your condition, and she already felt like tearing her hair out from anxiety. Tara just needed to know if you were at least breathing.

"Dr. Isley?" Sam called the attention of a red-haired doctor who was passing by them in a hurry. Tara sighed in relief that her sister was paying attention to her surroundings because her mind was in a completely different place. "We were informed that you performed emergency surgery on a family member. Her name is Y/n Y/L, admitted with multiple stab wounds."

"Oh, yes. Miss Y/L." The doctor replied in a professional tone, but there was impatiency all over her body language. "It was a difficult surgery, and she lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, no vital organs were hit. I won't lie, the recovery will be painful, but at least she survived the operation without any apparent severe collateral effects."

This was the best news Tara had heard in days. She opened a smile and didn't even try to hide her own happiness as she prolonged the conversation. "Is she in any room? Can we see her?"

"Miss Y/L is in room 604, but I'm afraid only one person is allowed in at a time to avoid any disturbance."

"No problem, we can take turns." Sam pointed between her and her sister. Despite seeming much calmer than the younger one, Tara knew Sam was just as relieved as she was to know that you were still alive.

"No, you didn't understand. There's already someone in Miss Y/L's room." Dr. Isley warned and, seemingly losing the rest of her patience, she began to walk away. "Sorry, but I have other patients to attend to."

The two Carpenter sisters looked at each other alarmed. Who could be in your room? Chad was still in his own surgery, Anika had gone to stay with Mindy while she received some stitches, and frankly, your parents had never been present enough to travel between states so quickly for your sake.

They walked down the corridor, moving as fast as possible without disturbing the other people being treated or working in the area. Tara's heart threatened to jump out of her mouth as she looked from door to door, searching for the numbering of your room. 601. 602. 603.

Tara stopped so abruptly at the door that she and Sam bumped into each other, their sneakers making noise against the shiny white floor. The simple door had a small window through which it was possible to see the inside of the room without necessarily entering. Tara looked inside, ready to break the handle and force her way in if necessary.

But it wasn't, because Tara Carpenter recognized exactly the girl sitting next to your bed, holding your hand gently and stroking your hair, even though you were sleeping. She remembered, with a tightness in her chest, that Kate Bishop would be notified the moment she pressed the button.

And, in her own words, she would come running to take care of you.

"Tara, who-"

"I have to go." Tara interrupted her sister's words, looking at the scene in front of her without blinking. She knew what she had to do; there was no reason to fight the facts.

"What? What do you mean? You just got here." Sam asked, partially annoyed and partially confused by the younger one's actions.

"You heard the doctor. Her recovery will be painful, and if I stay around, all I'll cause is more pain." Tara opened a small smile just to try to pretend that she wasn’t dying inside. She knew Sam could see the truth, that she could see her broken heart and internal conflict, but she also knew that was the only possible solution.

"Tara..."

"Sam, you know I'm right. You told me that yourself a few days ago, remember? I hurt her." The girl shook her head in surrender and took a few steps away from the door. Away from you. "She needs peace, Sam. And the only way she can get that now is if I'm not around."

Tara took one last look inside the room, seeing how peaceful you looked. Sleeping, without any worries, and with an incredible and caring person by your side, ready to help you in whatever you needed.

Someone much better than her.

Perhaps that was the first time Tara had made a selfless decision in a long time, but she didn't feel deserving of any credit for it. What she had to do now was get better. Maybe more entries in her journal and more visits to her therapist would eventually fill the void she felt within her.

For now, she just turned around and started walking away from room 604. Each step hurt, like a razor cutting her skin, but it was the right thing to do. Tara had hurt you for far too long, and now...

Now it was time to let you go.

[supertrainstationh]

DOCTORS OF DOG LAND

by A. Griffin / Super Train Station H

•••••••••••••

Once upon a time, in a country far away, lived a society of canines that walked on only two legs. They wore shirts, and also pants, and could hold things with their hands, and they ran a hospital whose science work was quite advanced. One patient they cared for, submitted by her parents, had symptoms most unusual, their cause far from apparent. When happy without fail rather than simply wag her tail, she weirded others out by doing strange things with her mouth, making expressions unacceptable, whose wrongness needn’t be mentioned, reacting to being glad by making a face that threatened - with twisted corners of the mouth, demanding bad attention. For a dog to show their teeth, threatens a bite to all who see - that a happy pup would act like that was strange, and near obscene. There were other factors too, filling the folder of her case - as stimuli of normal life caused vividly painful headaches. Senses smashed by overwhelming force, over-loads would occur, bending sight and sound, into phantasmagoric blur. She'd also stare at certain plants, then strangely say, they were pretty, so came batteries of fancy tests to diagnose her quickly. The doctors sat down grimly with her father and her mother, and explained that their dear little girl had visions plagued by "color". A study of her eyes determined over-active cones, making normal waves of light appear as strange and separate tones. Her enjoyment of these hues expunged alternative conclusions - this afflicted little girl was clearly suffering delusions. Arcs of broken light she said, bowed skyward after rain, illusions such as these signaled a misdeveloped brain. And for the chronic headaches there was nothing they could do, but they prescribed her medication so she'd see as others do. Isolated as she was she longed to be included - since strange things made her happy, it fit perfect to remove them. She called chromatic deviations wonderful, and nice to see, but disturbing thoughts like that could be suppressed with therapy. Patient complaints of her new vision, were really nothing worth a listen - professionals were sparing her the pain of seeing different. It would be cruel not to address her habit with her mouth - that teeth-exposing tick, when happy, needed wringing out. Just how to come about a cure, posed somewhat of a puzzle, until a genius doctor strapped the girl up in a muzzle. Its calibrated sensors administered electric shocks, that provided helpful feedback, each and every time she talked - and also if she regressed, by wasting time staring at flowers, there was no doubt she could be fixed, with scientific power. There was word that special glasses, might be all that it would take, to lessen certain bands of light that triggered her headaches, but that would signal "strange condition" and cause outsider suspicion - and making her look normal was the object of the mission. There were extremists out there who claimed the "color" thing was cool, though those mutts lacked PhDs and couldn't change the rules. And if some had become doctors, and spectromatic sight they had, that disqualifying trait signaled they needed to be banned. The goal was not to understand and lend a helping hand - enforcing homogeneity was normalcy's demand. Oh if struggle could be softened, without persecuting patients - but thinking so inventive, was the future's innovation. So within the narrow focus of the logic then at hand, they heeled unto textbook commands, for treatment plans in Dog Land.

If you liked this poem, you might like my work-in-progress YouTube video series Barrier Aggression, in which I provide detailed commentary on a few non-disabled disability gatekeepers who have put themselves in charge of an "autism advocacy" nonprofit.

(this isn't a criticism of science/medicine helping disabled people, its a criticism of science/medicine "treating" characteristics that are only problems in the context of them not being seen as "normal" by typical people)

•••••••••••••

MY LINKS

[🅗Twitch] [🅗Carrd] [🅗VOD Channel] [🅗 FA] [🅗Ko-fi]

[deathsmile36]

As someone who loves TCF novels, I'm addicted to Rok Soo's character and life, so I want to talk a little about him. Let's list his problems that we remember.

His body and life were stolen.

He was affected by the White Star's curse.

His parents died at a young age. It's not mentioned how old he was, but it was likely between 7 and 8.

He was taken in by a distant relative who was good at first, but changed and began treating him badly, beating and starving him to the point where he would eat filth or go hungry for days.

He was so afraid of his uncle that he was afraid to even go to the bathroom. So, being a helpless child, he resigned himself to his fate.

He received help from some people who took pity on him, so with their help, he escaped from his uncle and entered an orphanage (we still don't know how, nor do we know how long he lived with his uncle).

His life in the orphanage was the only period of peace in his life, but he later discovered that he had been the target of an assassination attempt by hunters and had been used as bait by a wanderer. He was erased His Memories 8.. He was worried and afraid of taking responsibility for his own life when he left the orphanage, so he studied hard and intended to enter college (Note: Rok Soo's goal was to enter college and build a life. He worked hard to achieve this goal, but when the world was destroyed and he joined the company with the Su duo, he changed his goal to becoming a lazy rich man.) 9.. He worked various part-time jobs (We didn't know what these jobs were except for being a waiter in a restaurant. The rest of the jobs are a mystery.)

He witnessed the disaster at the age of 20. Everyone in the restaurant was killed. He suffered from fear and hunger for 3 days. (He stayed alive by drinking rainwater that seeped through cracks.)

He was rescued and entered the shelter. We all know his suffering in the shelter, and how he witnessed everyone's death, like Grandma, Jin-tae, and others, in order to protect him and everyone else because they were weak and powerless. (I bet he gained the ability to record when he witnessed their deaths, and the first thing he recorded was the moment of their tragic deaths, so he felt guilty because of his weakness.)

He joined the company and met the Soo duo, and he had a family for the first time. (They were always losing and getting beaten because of their weakness and lack of numbers and equipment.)

Because he was physically weak, he was protected by his two friends and witnessed their deaths and the brutal deaths of his team. His arm was broken and he bled, and no one asked him to take care of himself or wipe the blood because they were focused on his explanation. (Of course, he recorded the deaths of his friends and felt guilty. He asked support to collect their bodies because he was powerless. He didn't stop explaining at the same time because his friends entrusted him with the team and what (He remained.)

He was subjected to all kinds of insults, curses, and humiliation because he didn't cry over the death of his friends and became a leader at a young age (he bowed his head to many scoundrels to protect the team and the company he was now responsible for).

Because of the curse and the death of his friends, he created a barrier between himself and his new team. He ate and took care of his health, but he couldn't sleep, take vacations, or get proper rest (we all know because the log works by itself when Rok Soo is alone and the atmosphere is quiet. I can't imagine the psychological torment he went through for over 10 years).

After the death of his friends, he activated his Instant Ability, and we all know the amount of pain he went through and the scars he received every time he used it.

He always wore long-sleeved clothing for fear that people would see his scars and be frightened or disgusted by them.

He worked hard, memorizing all records of the monsters and other things, and working like crazy to protect his team and prevent any casualties (his casualty rate on his missions is 0%).

He received numerous offers to give speeches and lectures, but none of them were successful due to the monsters that suddenly appeared or the terrorist acts that only occurred during his appearances.

The general public knew nothing about him or his accomplishments.

Finally, he was suddenly thrown into another world without his knowledge or even his opinion being asked.

Let's not forget that he was monitored since birth by Death and was watched for over 10 years by Soo duo. They laughed at his injuries while he suffered psychologically every day due to his regret and grief over losing them.

This is about his life as Kim Rok Soo. I haven't yet written about his struggles as cale Henituse. If I've forgotten anything else, please let me know so I can remember.

[lilacs-stash]

@norazingrid I do dare to disagree /lh (my first fandom was mlp I have one million opinions on this)

Earth: Knife's character is very tied to physical strength, which fits earth pony magic. Same thing with Baseball, Blueberry, and Trophy. Apple is an apple. Applejack. Yes. Box Nickel Pickle Pepper and Dough it just feels right for.

Pegasus: Marsh has defied gravity in S1. Fan and Paper blow away in the wind. Toilet can fly. And OJ I like to draw with little juice wings. And Suitcase is the same character as Fluttershy 👍 /j

Unicorn: Mic would have sound based magic she'd have a hard time controlling. Lightbulb would have light based magic. TK's spout is horn shaped. You could give Tissues a broken horn. Bomb would have explosive magic and potential a broken horn as well. The Cherries stem is kinda horn shaped. Test tube and Cobs need magic to properly build their machinery

Hippogriff/Seapony: Balloon is both very bird and fish, Lifering is just a fish.

Batpony: Bow's triangles look like wings but also she was reintroduced in a Halloween special

Magic alicorn: For those who don't know this is what I consider Sunny Starscout and Sunset Shimmer. Basically you aren't physically an alicorn but have the magic of one. Candle's body is a unicorn, Silver's an earth pony, and Clover's a Pegasus.

Changeling hybrid: He could have the holes in his legs. Like cheese

Chageling: Bot's whole arc has to do with being in a body that isn't theirs and have bug theming, so changeling is perfect. Goo is a bug to me and just doesn't fit anything else. Taco is mostly here because of the invisibow and her hiding her arms.

Alicorn: I don't think I need to explain these ones Tbh

Kirin: They catch on fire when mad, so does Painty

Draconequus: Yang causes chaos it's one of his favorite activities. Also nothing else fits

Crystal Unicorn: only using the HC of them having crystal horns, so Salt would have a salt crystal for one

Yak: It just fits for Tyler. Potentially you could also make him a dragon

[the-most-humble-blog]

🛐 LADIES: THE ONLY ANSWER MEN FEAR

My female readers, you want an olive branch? Fine. Here it is. You're welcome.

You want a line so heavy you can crack the jaw of any man who dares question your worth?

You want to be the woman who doesn't flinch when some half-bald cafeteria philosopher squints across the room and sneers:

"Men know what they bring to the table…

But what do you bring?"

You want to be the woman who doesn’t stutter — who doesn’t reach for slogans — who doesn’t parrot Instagram captions about "matching energy" like a dopamine-addled parrot?

You want to be the woman who makes the room fall silent when she answers?

Then here’s the truth.

And you’re not going to like it.

🩸 THE ONLY ANSWER WORTH SPEAKING It’s not your degree. It’s not your paycheck. It’s not your travel photos. It’s not your curated self-esteem.

It’s your vow.

It’s the raw, soul-spilling, knee-buckling declaration of this:

**"The man who would die for me will know that he will be remembered by me — as the only man I ever bowed my head and waist for, the only man I would bleed and die beside, even when escape was still an option. Until this whore of a planet rips him from my grasp — and even then, my vow will not break."**

That’s it.

That’s the atomic answer.

That’s the thunder.

That's the seismic tear through the modern wasteland of gender bickering.

Because no man who has fought the universe tooth and claw wants a co-pilot bitching about legroom.

He wants a woman who sees his blood, his broken knuckles, his sacrifice — and kneels not because she is weak, but because she understands what it cost him to still be standing at all.

🧠 WHY THIS ANSWER TERRIFIES THEM Because real men hear it and feel something ancient shift behind their ribs. The thing they thought was extinct.

Loyalty. Devotion. The mutual blood-oath beyond contracts and memes.

The kind of woman who speaks like that isn’t a girlfriend. She’s a queen in the war room. A hand around the heart when the knife slips between ribs. A name written in teeth, not in ink.

🛡️ WHY MOST WOMEN CAN’T SAY IT Because most have never even knelt at their own reflection, let alone before a man worthy of leading them through fire.

Because submission today is treated like a slur — when it is, in truth, the highest form of chosen strength.

Because bending the knee to a man worthy of death and remembrance requires more spine, more spirit, and more faith than "boss bitch" sloganeering ever could.

You cannot fake that kind of devotion. And no real man can be tricked by it.

⚡ TL;DR You want to answer "what do you bring to the table"?

Bring the heart vow they didn’t know they still prayed for.

Bring the blood loyalty that even the coldest battlefield would envy.

Bring the softness that stands when every blade falls.

Anything less? You're just another voice at the table. Forgettable.

💣 CALL TO ACTION: 🔁 Reblog if you understand that loyalty is heavier than cash. 🛡️ Save this post for the day someone asks you that question. ⚡ Send it to a woman who would dare to learn how to mean it.

Or simply 🔁Reblog to keep my signal to mankind going strong.

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This post is Blacksite Literature™, emotional battlefield architecture, evolutionary survival analysis, and cadence-based cultural correction protected under artistic expression and mythological narrative law.

If you’re offended: Swear your loyalty louder next time, or step aside.

🛡️ BLACKSITE POST: COMPLETE. 🩸 TIMELINE INFILTRATION STATUS: ACTIVATED.

[idiashroudshusband]

Echoes in the Dark - Klance / Angst

The world felt wrong.

Lance McClain could sense it before anyone told him, like the wind had stopped breathing, the stars had dimmed, and gravity had shifted. The hangar of the Castle of Lions buzzed with activity as Blades of Marmora operatives disembarked their ships, moving with grim efficiency. But there was no sign of him. No sign of Keith.

"Where’s Keith?" he asked, forcing a laugh as he jogged toward Kolivan, who was speaking in hushed tones to Shiro. "Where is he? He promised he’d be back before the mission debrief."

Kolivan’s head turned slowly, his eyes heavy with a truth that Lance didn’t want.

"Lance," Shiro whispered, his voice low and broken.

Lance’s breath hitched. "No," he said, his smile faltering as he stepped back, his chest tightening with dread. "No. Don’t. Don’t say it."

Shiro took a step forward. "The mission was compromised—"

"Don’t." Lance’s voice cracked, louder this time. "He’s coming back." His heart raced. "Keith always comes back." He always manages to..

Silence.

Kolivan bowed his head. "Keith gave his life to complete the mission. He… saved us all."

"No." The word left Lance’s mouth as a whisper, then again as a growl. "No! He’s not dead. He wouldn’t just—he’s Keith! He doesn’t die!" His hands balled into fists as he glared at Kolivan, chest heaving. "You’re lying! Where is he?"

The Blade of Marmora leader remained silent, his sorrow a quiet weight that said everything.

Lance felt his knees weaken. His mind spun in a blur of memories—Keith’s smirks, his sharp comebacks, the rare smiles when Lance finally got him to laugh. His eyes squeezed shut, as if willing himself to wake from this nightmare.

"I didn’t… I didn’t even say goodbye," he whispered. His voice trembled, breaking into pieces as tears slipped free. "I didn’t get to tell him… how much he mattered. How much I—"

The words hung in the air, unfinished and broken.

Shiro placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. "He knew. Lance, I promise you—he knew.”

Lance pulled away, shaking his head violently. "It’s not enough!" he shouted. His fists slammed against the nearest wall, his knuckles splitting on impact. The pain barely registered. "I should’ve been there. I should’ve—"

"You couldn’t have stopped him," Shiro said softly. "Keith made his choice. He did what he always does—he makes rash decisions on his own.. He protects people.. He always puts others before himself.."

"I didn’t ask him to protect me!" Lance choked out, tears streaming freely now. "I didn’t want him to be a hero! I just wanted him to stay! I wanted—" His voice collapsed into a broken sob as he slid down the wall, burying his face in his hands.

The room felt too quiet. Even the sounds of the others on the ship, the other members of the Blade of Marmora, all their noises were drowned out. It was too cold. The kind of silence where Keith’s warmth used to live, where his fierce presence had always kept them steady. And now, there was only the hollow space where he used to be.

Lance gripped his chest, the ache unbearable. "He can’t be gone," he whispered. "I didn’t tell him I loved him. I never told him.”

Kolivan stepped forward, placing something in Lance’s trembling hand. A familiar black and purple knife. Keith’s Marmora blade.

Lance clenched it so tightly it cut into his skin, as if holding onto it would somehow pull Keith back.

The stars outside the Castle burned bright, but all Lance could feel was darkness.

Yeah the Klace fans cant be happy and I’m here to contribute to that.