#Because I keep telling myself there’s no reason to be angry and upset and to hate myself and want to die

[astral-catastrophe]

These walls are so fucking thin. And the floors are weird. I can hear literally everything. I’m so damn restless but I can’t pace around because even though I’m near silent when I walk, these floors are wrong and for some reason, my limp is more pronounced tonight

[talkorsomething]

Too [insert adjective here] for guard ...................

Well, it's only half related.

We "hit a pothole", "had a slipup", whatever you want to call it — sunday. Aka: for the sake of my sanity we are not labeling it a relapse but good god does it feel as though I have invited the demons back in.

I know why, but I don't really know why. Because, I mean... I never have, to begin with. So: when I decided i was doing it sunday, i accepted it. "Let it happen", as someone would probably say to me. It's not...

I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's like anything - it comes and goes, a few times a year, and no matter what, I always ignore it.

Except, maybe there's something I'm not paying attention to? Or, ignoring, is the better word for it?

Of course it would be the one thing I have happening in my life.

November, I was burnt out for unrelated reasons. It was a lot to take in. That made sense. Now? ... why now?

There's not really any pressure on me. Yes, I have to do things, yes, it will be noticed if they're bad, but ...... it's not important. We don't spend time on it. I'm coming back next year, but it might be at the cost of ... all of this. I think it's progress. I haven't touched my guitar in any serious capacity in over a year. I think it's progress.

I don't take compliments well. I can't tell if that's why I don't get them, but I'm not being corrected much either. Only when I drift too far from what the work is supposed to be, only after weeks of it going, I can only assume, unnoticed. I keep getting stuck.

...push it back down.

Telling me I'm doing good isn't telling me what I know I have to be getting wrong. I could take it, at the cost of... all of this. I'm anticipating, and I know it can come. This is not where I was when I started.

It's been said, I haven't been told, that not starting it means you're more of a burden, by making the other person have to do it first. I know that. I do. And still it doesn't help. I'm not drowning. It wasn't an accident, but it wasn't planned, either. I don't know you.

I don't know you.

I'm not a good person. I'm not a nice person. Every week I tell myself this is really it, and every week I come back, and ... what? Forget I ever said anything? Forget we're not friends?

Well, we're not, huh? Nobody is, with me. What you see I swear you misunderstand. You don't ask. If you do, well, I can't answer. We're at an impasse.

It's not even my fault we didn't make it. I shouldn't feel like this over nothing. I don't do anything. You will, correctly, not let me do anything, because potential doesn't matter if you can't back it up. If you won't back it up. I let things happen to me.

I don't even feel better. And, actually, ironically, i think i know what would let me feel better. If I can't be upset with anyone else, at least I can be with myself.

... but, well, not even that. Your heart in my hands, but I mean it diegetically. And metaphorically. I hate putting myself out there, I hate having to actually perform, and yet every time, no matter what, I do it. I'm fine. I only cared at the start, and even then not very.

I don't feel anything. Not a lot, anyways. I don't let it happen. I can't. I don't know what it'll mean if I start being honest with myself.

...

I've pulled myself out of this before. A few times, now. Different circumstances, but I've done it all the same. Seasonal depression notwithstanding.

I'm only here because I did things I was scared to. And still, I'm the same. No progress made. The only way out is to do it again but I feel like I can't. I can't.

Will someone just let me say that?

Will someone just fucking help for once?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA bc I hate my dog?

My live in gf and I got a puppy. I never wanted a puppy. I told her many times I don't want puppies for the same reason I don't want kids: they need too much and I get overwhelmed. I have a cat and that's exactly the relationship I want with a pet. My cat will cuddle with me while I work but she doesn't impede my ability to work. The puppy is the opposite. Everything is about the puppy all the time. The only time I feel like I can think is the brief periods throughout the day when the puppy is in the crate. Apart from that it's constant. The puppy is eating the furniture and the carpet and harassing my cat and potty training isn't going well. I have to watch the puppy every single second to avoid disaster. It's so draining.

My gf meanwhile is in love with the dog. She plays with it and it's much better behaved for her than for me. I do everything she says I'm supposed to to keep the puppy from biting me, to assert myself, but none of it works. Taking care of this dog is my personal hell.

I know the dog will grow up and grow out of this phase so I'm trying not to let my gf see just how angry I am. But I'm angry. I'm angry by how much time this dog takes up and I'm angry about all the stuff it's destroying, and I'm angry that my gf is apparently having the time of her life. We haven't even had sex since she brought the dog home because she spends every second with it. It used to be we'd cuddle on the couch or in the kitchen and things would progress from there but now she's just focused on the dog 24/7 and I can't even get close enough to cuddle her on the couch. This dog that's peeing on my floor and eating my dresser gets more affection from gf than I do.

I told her about the sex thing and said I was a little hurt that we haven't been intimate recently and she told me I was being a dick and that I should just know puppies are a lot of work and that it'll all get back to normal eventually.

So AITA for telling my gf I feel like she likes the dog more than me? AITA for being so upset about this dog and wishing we never got it?

What are these acronyms?

[weneepie]

HEYYY !! I have a request 😼what about reader who want to go out late a night to ser her friend having a hatd time without warning jason and suddenly jason come back of patrol more earlier and scold her , but reader is upset about jason reaction , but jason just want to protect her …

worried w/ red hood rules | m.list

note. hiii! thank you sm for your request omg i love jason sm of course i'd do that ; worried jason is adorable, my boy is doing his best <3 feel free to request anything else!

You were supposed to be here. He left you alone in your apartment before he left for his night patrol. So why weren’t you here anymore? Where were you? Jason thought he was about to go crazy. He was searching everywhere, calling your phone, but you weren’t answering at all.

Yes, he came back earlier than usual, but it wasn't a reason to disappear, was it? What if something bad had happened while he was gone? Jason was making the worst scenarios in his head. Until he heard the sound of the door opening. He turned around and you arrived in the living room, a bit surprised. 

You didn’t have the time to say anything that Jason was standing in front of you, a visible frown across his eyebrows. “Where the hell were you?!” His voice was too loud, too angry ; you didn’t like that at all. You slowly raised an eyebrow at his tone, feeling the slight irritation growing inside of you. 

“My friend needed me, so I left to see her.” You explained but it didn’t calm Jason at all. “You know Gotham’s not safe at night. What if you got attacked, or worse?” He was clearly angry, but it simply made you angry too. You weren’t a child, you didn’t need him to act like he was your own father. 

“Quit yelling at me, would ya?” Your tone was harsh, and it caught him off guard. He wasn’t so used to any reaction like this from you, so he was taken aback. He was about to answer when you pointed at his chest, looking into his eyes. “I don’t need you to protect myself, Jason. I’m a grown adult!” And in those words, you left the living room to get locked up in the bathroom. You really needed a shower. 

Jason stayed alone in here, standing up and a bit lost about what just happened. Did he get too far? He knew you were strong enough to defend yourself ; he loved you for that. But he couldn’t help it ; he was always worried when he knew you were alone in the streets at night. He meant what he said: Gotham wasn’t safe at all, and he knew what he was talking about. 

He saw so many people get hurt without any reason, and he was just so scared to lose you. Anger was his only way to express those feelings, but making you mad was the last thing he ever wanted. So he sat on the couch and waited for you to get out of the bathroom. It took you long minutes, and he was almost falling asleep. Or at least, he would have if he wasn’t thinking so much about what he wanted to tell you. 

When you joined the living room again, your gaze met his figure and you rolled your eyes. You sat next to him in silence, hating this stupid sad look on his face. You hated to see it, but he needed to understand what was wrong. Jason took your hand softly in his. “Look at me, please… I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to react like this.” You turned around, meeting his eyes ; and he knew he wasn’t lying. There was too much sincerity in it for that ; you knew him by heart. 

You stayed silent, waiting for him to keep going for a moment. He breathed out softly, leaving a gentle kiss against your knuckles. “I was just… worried. I’m always so scared when you’re alone out there. I know you’re strong ; but those guys can be crazy.” And how could you blame him? You knew Jason got through hell because of one of them. You finally completely turned to face him, grabbing both his hands between yours. 

“I’m not angry because you’re worried. I am because you yelled at me like I was completely dumb and not careful.” He slowly nodded at your words, understanding that he didn’t react the way he should have. Your hand gently moved to his cheek so you could stroke it with your thumb so slightly. Jason leaned onto your touch, eyes now closed at the feeling. 

You felt like home for him, and he’d rather die than having to lose this feeling once more. He left a soft kiss against the palm of your hand, making you smile lightly. “I’d be careful with my reactions,” he told you, looking back at your eyes. You leaned forward a little, leaving a small peck against his lips. “And I won’t leave without telling you where I am.” 

A silent agreement, so things could work. Jason was making so many efforts for you, all the time ; the less you could do was to do some efforts too. Moreover, Jason was clearly worth it. The boy needed a comfort and safe place to calm his home ; and you were ready to be this for him.

thank you!!

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

One Bloody Morning

Summary: Spencer has the first day off in months, and Reader wakes up to her period.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Comfort

Content warning: Descriptions of blood and menstruation, cramps, etc.

Word count: 1.3k

Spencer has been rummaging in the kitchen and bedroom for the past hour. He's prepared for your plans, taking advantage of every minute of his official day off. He discarded his phone in one of his coats last night and has yet to even look in the closet it's hanging in.

But none of that is the reason you're awake. You’re frozen in Spencer’s bed, your back facing him as he thinks you're in bliss. He doesn’t see how you’re in the most humiliating state. And you don’t know how to rush to the bathroom without being noticed. Without all of it being noticed. 

You understand, even if you make it out of bed and hobble to the other side of the room and jump into the shower, evidence will still be left behind. Evidence that you’re a woman who bleeds, and that's the last thing you want to remind Spencer of.

“Hey, sleepy —”

The scream you let out is piercing but quick. As you spring up from the blankets, Spencer jumps back. You keep the covers over your waist. Hiding.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry.” He takes a hand that came out of the blankets. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You tell him. It’s not. The scare pushed more out, and it’s long stained your nightgown. It'll seep into his white sheets with the mess. And although you’re well aware fresh blood comes out easy with a cold wash and an extra cycle, the tears start to cloud as your cramps pound at you like an angry neighbor at the door.

“Hey, hey,” Spencer cups your face and your tears fall as soon as his skin touches yours. “I should have been more careful. I genuinely thought you were still asleep and I wanted to wake you up myself."

“No.” Is all you can choke out. Your esophagus is thick with embarrassment. “No.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He crouches to meet your eyes. You can barely return the gesture. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No.” You remain present enough to catch a breath but try to keep others following so you can hopefully say something else in a convenient amount of time

Spencer, however, given his limited knowledge, does not know what to do except the thing he usually does when you’re in this state; he hugs you. Tight.

And that is, of course, the one thing that doesn’t help. The feeling of your organs pressed against his chest is torturous as he tries to show you love, to show you how upset he feels about his actions. Because, thanks to your extensive vocabulary, he thinks he is the reason you’re acting this way. What else is he supposed to think?

You can’t take it anymore, and it pains you to push him away as you say “Stop.” The relief is slight but the shame only grows as you pull your legs out to rest your feet on the floor. You mentally prepare to reveal it all as well as stand. The sharpness in your lower back feels like Spencer was trying to hug you with his hands balled into fists and not calming flat palms.

Spencer follows you as you gather the strength to stand. The palms of your hands rub tears and leftover sleep from your eyes. But you still can’t look at Spencer. Instead, you gaze at the lamp on the nightstand next to you. Nothing is impressive about it, and you remember that as you push the blankets back.

Spencer says nothing.

You cup your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry.” And a sob breaks through.

Spencer is still quiet. And even though he never jumps to anger, you’re still afraid to look at him.

Nevertheless, you do, as the silence only becomes more deafening with the passing minutes (or what feels like minutes).

Rather than anger, Spencer’s eyebrows turn down as he looks at you. His lips parted before he asked. “Are you okay?”

As if your heightened emotions hadn't exposed you enough at the moment. Standing alone adds even more pressure to your back, and the stickiness between your thighs is something you don’t even want to acknowledge.

“That’s a dumb question.”

“No, n —” You avoid repeating yourself for the fifth time. “It just… came. I usually feel it when it’s on its way but this time it —”

Spencer’s hands caress your arms. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll throw them in the wash while we’re gone, okay? I know you’ve prepared the picnic stuff."

“It’s 9:22 in the morning and 84 degrees today. We’ve got time.” His hands rub your arms gently, creating slight warmth as he moves. “Now, what do you need?”

“A shower.”

“Okay.” His hands leave your side and he steps back. “Go ahead. I’ll handle this.”

“I can —”

“Ah.” He holds his palm up, causing you to pause. "Shower now.”

Spencer isn’t the type to adopt an authoritative voice with you, but you can’t admit you don’t dislike it. You note it, for future use obviously.

But for now, you try to walk (for the love of God, do not waddle) to the bathroom. The sounds of the sheet corners springing back to the center are all you hear before closing the door. You shimmy out of your delicate gown and let it drop on the tile. You don’t look down at the carnage; focus on the faucet. You lean over the tub and let it pour out water and steam, blessing your skin already.

When you step in, the clear water hitting your skin already fades into a pink shade. Bits of dark tissue follow the flow to the drain. A drop doesn’t touch your hair because cleanliness is all you need. The heat, although pricking your skin, soothes your back, nearly wiping out your pained muscles. It doesn’t even matter when steam takes up more air than oxygen.

“Yeah.” You reply. A few seconds pass, and you remember you didn’t grab a towel before stepping in. Lucky for you, Spencer has a small bathroom, so you lean over just far enough to open the door.

Spencer knocks on the door, and you can barely hear it. "Hun, are you doing okay?”

And of course, he’s standing there, rolled towel in hand. He even holds it up like a serving tray with his signature dorky smile and raised eyebrows. “Fresh from the dryer," he said. He hands it to you to cover yourself. And he gives you the discretion of not looking at your nightgown discarded on the floor. Instead, as you step out, wrapped in more warmth, he sits on the tub lip.

“Thank you.” You tell him and grin.

He smiles back as you walk to the mirror, brushing the steam with one hand. He watches your every move, admiring you for all you are, even in pain.

“You okay?” you still ask. There’s something, something else.

Spencer bites his lips closed for a moment. “How long were you awake?”

You shrugged. You look at him only through the mirror. “Maybe 20 minutes.”

"Hm." He glances down, at the nightgown between you both. “I wish you had told me.”

“It’s never not embarrassing, Spencer, no matter how many times it happens. For most women I know, at least.”

“Well, I mean,” he swallows. “I am a doctor, so.”

“A psychological kind, though.”

“Who also deals with dead bodies, blood, and other bodily fluids, common and uncommon, daily."

You don’t say anything. The horror stories he tells with enthusiasm from a scientific perspective (his words) prove his point enough.

“Honey, there’s nothing your body can make that can disgust me.”

“Even a baby?” You joke.

And he chuckled. Thank God, he didn’t want kids either. Not in his line of work. “It’s clear your birth control is effective at least.” He gets up and walks toward you, bridging the gap. Before his hands meet your waist, he looks at you in the mirror and waits. You nod, and he gently wraps his arms around you, his head pressed against your damp shoulder. “You can tell me anything.” He kisses the skin. “When you want me to help, let me know. Okay?”

Despite the awkward angle, you kiss him with relief, winding strands of his hair in with your fingers. “Okay.”

[chochuuya]

his muse.

fashion designer mitsuya x reader

disclaimers: slight angst, tension, lots of back and forth.. possessive mitsuya yup yup |･ω･)

word count: 685

“why?” mitsuya asks, not looking up from his sewing machine. “you’re my model. i’m not fighting for your time with another man (y/n).”

he’s always had an obsession with beautiful things. you’re no exception, so you can’t leave him.

all of his designs are catered to you. when he sees you smile, or hears you laugh, he’s already sketching another. he shuts the machine off, looking at you.

“do you not like the clothes i make anymore?” he asks, brows furrowing. because why else would you leave?

you chew your bottom lip as you fidget on your hands. it’s always nerve wracking to talk to mitsuya when he’s tense.

“it’s nothing like that, takashi. trust me, your designs are par to none! it’s just that.. i want to dress more and for others too? i am still your model, yes but i’m just signing up for more houses.”

he frowns.

“my designs are for you and you alone. we established this (y/n).”

you know mitsuya is stubborn, and once he gets an idea into his head, it doesn’t budge easily. he takes his designs seriously and doesn’t like to see his models modelling for other designers. the thought of you modelling for anyone else makes him feel jealous and angry, and he struggles to mask it.

you shake your head in protest.

“takashi. of course you had and have support me enough up to this point, but i just thought i could get more experience if i get myself out there more you know?” you reasoned.

“you don’t need to get more experience, you’re perfect!” he exclaims with eyes pleading.

“my designs are made with you in mind (y/n), and they look best on you! the other designers won’t be able to replicate my work. they’ll probably mess it all up.” mitsuya continues, “you could ruin your reputation modelling for someone else, no one would want your image on their projects anymore!”

he stops, breathless for a few seconds.

“you’re my muse..” he says quietly. “you’re all i’ve got, don’t you see that?”

you sighed in defeat.

“how am i supposed to grow as a model when i’m not getting out of my comfort zone, takashi? i admire you and your talented quality crafts but please, try to understand me!”

he glares at you, anger in his eyes.

“i don’t want you to grow, (y/n)!" he shouts.

“i want you to be mine and only mine. if you can't understand that then- then-" he stops himself before he gets too carried away.

“i understand that you have your own goals and aspirations but i’d rather you keep me in mind too.”

he steps back, breathing rapidly.

“i’m sorry, i- i shouldn’t have yelled.” he pauses, trying to get ahold of his emotions.

“you have other models too, mitsuya..”

“but i want you to be my main model.” he says, a hint of pleading in his voice.

“you’re my best, and i can help you far better than anyone else ever could. you’re my muse and inspiration. i just- i don’t want that to change.” he added.

you thought of what he said so, there was silence for a mere moment before you break the ice.

“there’s something else you’re not telling me. i know you.” you said with your arms crossed.

he narrows his eyes at you, not liking being accused of hiding something.

“and what do you think that is?” mitsuya asks icily. he wants to hear what you think it is, but won’t admit it just yet.

“i don’t know. you tell me.”

mitsuya is silent for a moment, debating over whether or not to let you in on his secret. his eyes scan your face, trying to gauge your trustworthiness. you’d never betrayed his trust before, so why not now?

finally, he speaks, his voice softer.

“i didn’t want to tell you because i knew you’d be upset. but... i’m in love with you (y/n)." mitsuya says quietly, looking at you.

“i’ve been in love with you for years.”

...

maybe hakkai and yuzuha should come by another day.

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

ngl that one panel where he fixes takemichi's suit is just *nosebleeds* (＿ ＿*) anyway, i hope you like this one! reblogs & likes are vv appreciated ♡

[actual-changeling]

See, but there's something about the first fight in episode 1 that just doesn't really. fit. It very much feels like we are missing information here.

I have been thinking about this show all day, as one does, but in particular why Crowley gets angry enough to shoot literal lightning at a nearby building. We have experienced him upset before, but never to that specific degree, and their disagreement over Gabriel just does not explain it for me.

My hypothesis: a big, important fight happened right before season 2 picks up that left Crowley feeling rejected and Aziraphale neglected.

The biggest clue is the snippet of conversation about myself vs. ourselves.

"I thought we had carved it out for ourselves"

He almost sounds offended when he says that, yet Crowley reacts with equal parts hurt and anger, like he is referencing something that we, the viewer, do not have any knowledge of.

"So did I"

However, Aziraphale seems to understand whatever Crowley is referring to and does not respond with anything in return. Yet whatever wound they just opened keeps bleeding, and when Aziraphale tells him, packaged nicely, to fuck off, Crowley seems more sad than upset to me.

The to go? is almost said softly and with an initial confusion that hides a LOT of unspoken pain. Plus the HAND MOTION? The gesturing between the two of them while saying "oh, so this is how you wanna do this?" - call me insane, but to me that very much sounds like "oh so this is how you want to break up?"

The funny part is, if Aziraphale had simply shut up after saying "I want you to help me take care of him", I can GUARANTEE YOU that Crowley would have begrudgingly agreed. But he doesn't. He keeps going and this is the first moment this season where he is genuinely and truly bitchy.

"But if you won't, you won't" with the demonstrative sit-down and turning away from him, eyes forward. It pokes at whatever wound is still open and bleeding between them. Aziraphale wants Crowley to jump over his shadow and come help him, ignoring his boundaries. Meanwhile Crowley feels fundamentally misunderstood and rejected and wants Aziraphale to SHOW that he cares about Crowley more than he cares about fucking Gabriel of all people.

That he cares about them more than about heaven.

And now we have finally reached Crowley's breaking-point. he is so deeply hurt by what Aziraphale just said and did, choosing heaven over them, that the pain turns into anger because he has no other way of expressing or feeling it in the first place.

You're on your own with this one.

That last look is filled with such disappointed heartbreak, he turns around simply to give Aziraphale a chance to ask him to stay, to apologize, something. Yet again, he does not. He doesn't even meet his gaze, he is looking away.

To me, he seems almost spiteful, like this entire argument is only superficially about Gabriel but about something entirely else deeper down.

Which - that's the point, isn't it?

Crowley comes back and apologizes because Aziraphale matters more to him than stupid arguments or choosing sides, keeping him safe is the only thing he cares about when it comes down to it. He swallows down his hurt and betrayal and does what Aziraphale wants: ignoring the entire argument and pretending nothing ever happened so they can continue like before.

Only that they can't. The entire season shows just how much they cannot go back to their arrangement, no matter how hard Crowley tries to mold himself to Aziraphale's will. Their final argument simply reflects all of that and more. The same wound that first one was about gets reopened very violently and they're bleeding all over each other with no way to stop it because they're too fucking stubborn to admit that it exists in the first place.

Aziraphale and Crowley can only fix their relationship when they acknowledge the reason the rift between them opened up. Until then, Crowley feels truly rejected and Aziraphale feels entirely neglected, and there is nothing anyone can do to make them confront that.

[delreyshit]

Saving Her

Summary: You basically have a relationship with Ghost, with whom you also work. During a mission you both argue and go their own ways during the day, until the enemy team catches you and your man must save you. 

Note: Sorry if there is a bad wording, English is not my first language, I will upload the Spanish version soon. Enjoy it :)

Aquí está la versión en español

The bastard who had abandoned me in the middle of our mission had now come back for me. I would have liked to spit in her face and tell her that I could save myself, but I was tied up and also very terrified. "How is it possible that I left you alone for a couple of minutes and caught you, huh?" "Minutes? It was almost an hour and it was your fault that they left me in this silly chair, you left me without a single weapon to defend myself."I snorted, annoyed with his presence. "Do you want to turn down the volume? If those on the opposite side hear your screams, we'll be fried." He whispered into my ear, as he tried to cut the wires that held me from behind. I turned my head back, trying to see him. His uniform couldn't hide the muscles in his burly arms, which flex every time he moves the knife near my wrists.

"You're an idiot, Simon," I spat quietly. "You are the idiot, for letting them catch you so easily, ruining our mission. And don't say my name again, someone can hear you." His intense gaze ran across my face, trying to frighten me with his firm tone. I snorted indignantly when I was finally freed from that rusty chair. I watched Ghost with his arms folded and put a couple of things in his pockets. "Aren't you happy that I have released you?" he asked. "You only came looking for me because the mission was unsuccessful, I would have preferred that you had left me abandoned... It would have been better if you just hadn't looked alike." "I didn't abandon you, I just wanted to be alone. You weren't helping me with anything I asked of you and the fact that we started arguing wasn't... Besides, you don't even believe all those things you say, I know you're glad I saved your pretty ass."

I look away, unable to fight any further, as he carefully opens the door to the narrow room that had imprisoned me for long minutes. Ghost walked ahead of me through the dark corridors, guiding me. "Baby..." he murmured uneasily. "Don't call me like that. I'm still angry about it-I'm interrupted by his hand covering my mouth. He quickly corners me against a wall, protecting me with his burly body. My head is confused until external footsteps ring in my ears. My hands automatically hold onto Ghost's back and I take refuge in his chest, afraid of getting caught. Once we were sure that there were no Moors on the coast, the two of us took distance. "You're an imbecile," I whispered against his lips. "And you're crazy and grumpy," he answered.

I watched him lift his mask up to his mouth before we got drunk in a confusing and intense kiss, which made me completely forget my reasons for having upset with him. His gloves brushed the delicate skin under my shirt, all the way to my pants belt. Avidly, while his tongue played with mine in a dirty caress, he forcefully pulled my clothes down to my knees, being immediately exposed to him. "Simon, someone can see us..." I whispered with a gasp. "I told you not to say my name here. Now, you'd better keep quiet." Before I could even contradict him, he knelt before me, with his hands he spread my legs and then, opened my swollen lips and shine with excitement. His fingers moved until they squeezed the flesh of my butt and he leaned over my belly gently. "Shit, baby. You have no fucking idea how delicious you are..."

[jokingmisfit]

You Would Be Missed

Poly!2012!TMNT X Depressed!Gn!Reader

Prompt- “The lizard and I will kill things for you.”

Prompt- “Nobody wants me. Not even myself.”

Warnings- Feelings of uselessness, Feelings of being unloved, Crying, overall just depression themes

‘Would anyone miss me if I disappeared?Would anybody even care if I was gone?’ That's all that kept playing in your head. Were you really that useless? Why would everyone keep you around if you weren’t wanted? Well, no, you may be needed? No you aren’t, you’re not needed, so why do they let you stay?

You’d stopped crying about it hours ago, but the thoughts still plagued your mind. You lounged on the couch next to Leo watching Space Heroes. The Tv drones on and on, and you can’t pay any attention because of the noise in your head.

Your head layed on the blue masked turtle's shoulder. Trying to find comfort in the small act of affection. Leo’s arm draped over your shoulder lazily. You wished the normally calm scene made you feel better. You wish it made you feel wanted.

The four turtles you’d taken so much pride in being allowed to date. The four men you absolutely adored with all of your heart. A part of you knew that there was a reason you were here. A part of you was aware of how much you were truly loved. However, a bigger, louder part of you screamed that you were unwanted, unloved. You wished you could shut it up. Your partners always showered you with love and you were so angry with yourself. Weren’t they giving you enough? How selfish can you be?

You shifted away from him. Your mind was working you up. Tears you’d been able to push back coming to the forefront now. You excuse yourself quietly and run off to the bathroom where you knew you could take a few seconds to break down. Shutting the door, you slid down to the ground.

Tears poured down your face. You silently cry on the floor and try so hard to calm yourself down. A guilty feeling rises in your chest. They invited you over and all you’re doing is crying in their bathroom pathetically. You hated yourself. You felt terrible and you wanted these feelings to just go away.

A knock sounded through the small room. You quickly wiped your face of all your tears.

“Yes?” You answer, but your voice sounds broken.

“Oh, hi! It’s Mikey hehe if you can’t tell! Leo said you ran out and asked me to check on you!” Mikey yells through the door.

You stand up and open the door with the realest smile you can muster.

“I’m okay, I just needed a breather for a second…” You tell him.

“Well the bathroom’s a terrible place to chill!” Mikey says with a large smile. “C’mon babe it’s much better in my room.” He slings his arm over you before pausing. “Wait a second…” He looks at you closely. “Were you crying in there?”

Your heart skips for a second. “No, no I’m fine Mikey!” You defend quickly.

A look of shock and sadness covers his face. “You were! You were crying! That’s no good c’mon!” Mikey shouts picking you up and running to the main area.

You shout at him. Trying to convince him you’re fine and to put you down. Nothing seemed to phase him as he called all the others to come over.

Mikey finally plopped you on the couch and fell into your side trying to cuddle you close. Raph and Casey walk in looking confused and panicked from Mikey's yelling. Donnie comes in soon as well looking a bit upset at being pulled from his work. You just sat there red faced at the situation. Look what you’ve caused.

“Mikey what the heck?! Why were you yelling?” Raph asks angrily.

“Exactly what happened?” Donnie questions the orange mask wearer too.

“It’s them!” Mikey says. “They were cringing in the bathroom!” He says pouting.

“Is that true?” Leo asks you worriedly.

“I’m fine I just needed a second, it's really not that big a deal.” You say avoiding the eyes on you.

“Listen as dramatic as Mikey can be,” Raph says. “You crying isn’t just fine. What happened?” He asks you coming over to where you and Mikey were sat on the couch.

“Nothing,” You defend. “I’m fine. I swear!” You say holding your hands up.

“Hey, it’s okay to tell us. We’re here for you no matter what.” Donnie says also making his way over to you.

“I’m okay! I’m just having a hard time… I’ll be okay.” You say trying to smile sincerely.

“Darling…” Leo says, reaching for your hand.

“Please don’t.” You say. “I already feel guilty enough. You weren’t even supposed to notice and I screwed that up.”

“Dude, we’re your friends. Well I’m your friend, they’re your boyfriends, but point is we’re supposed to be the people you lean on for support.” Casey speaks up for the first time.

“I just-” You sigh. “I just haven’t been feeling right I guess.”

“Like what you’re feeling sick or…” Raph trails confused.

“Happy… I haven’t really felt happy. And I know, a part of me knows that my mind is just playing tricks on me, but I feel like I’m not good enough for anything… I feel so… so drained and unwanted and I know it’s not true, but I can’t help but think that nobody wants me. Not even myself.” You rant.

Tears fall freely down your face. The men sit in silence for a few seconds all absorbing the information you’ve given.

“I’m so sorry.” You cry out. “It’s not your problem to fix and I don’t want you to think you’re not enough. I love you all so much. Even you Casey, platonically. And I just don’t want you to feel bad just because you have such big hearts and just because I’m sad doesn’t mean you need to be too and, and-”

“Ok, ok. Breathe, honey.” Donnie interrupts you. “Deep breath in.” You follow as he breathes in. “And out…”

“You don’t have to feel bad for being upset.” Leo tells you.

“Yeah!” Mikey agrees. “We love you so much!”

“Everyone gets sad… Maybe it’s different for all of us, but you don’t have to do it alone.” Raph says sweetly.

“See you even got Raphael being soft.” Leo teases.

You can’t help but give a tearful chuckle as Raph defends angrily.

“You’re always there when we’re sad. Why wouldn’t we be there for you?” Mikey asks rubbing his hands over your back.

“I don’t know… Because there isn’t a real reason for mine.” You tell him shyly.

“Of course there is a reason.” Donnie starts. “You told us before you had depression, meaning you have a chemical imbalance in your brain.”

He’s cut off from speaking anymore by Raph. “See, doll, there is a reason, and even if there wasn’t you’re allowed to feel down sometimes.

“You’re too nice to me.” You said a new set of tears trailing your face.

“Listen, dude, I’m pretty sure I’m not alone when I say the lizards and I would kill for you. That’s how much we care.” Casey says to you confidently.

“What lizards?” Raph asks Casey quickly.

“Dude, are stupid? I was talking about you guys.” Casey claims, annoyed.

A smile raises across your face and you let out a small laugh.

“Casey. We aren’t lizards.” Leo tells him calmly.

Mikey bursts into laughter at Casey’s confused face.

“Wait. You’re really not lizards?” Casey asks, shocked. “But aren’t you guys reptiles or something?”

“Just because we’re reptiles doesn’t mean we’re lizards. Yes we have more in common then we do with other underwater creatures but that doesn’t make us lizards.” Donnie scolds.

Donnie continues on. Casey begins to argue with him on what the four brothers were considered to be. Mikey laughs loudly at the two and Raph just looks on smirking at their idiocy. Leo leans over rolling his eyes and wraps his arm around you like it had been earlier. You continue to giggle quietly, feeling slightly better than you did earlier.

“Despite how stupid they are,” Leo says smiling. “We all are here for you.” He finishes kissing your temple.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Captain John Price x Female Reader Dark Romance

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, bratty behavior, dirty talk, instruction to give oral (male receiving), implied voyeurism, dubious consent

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Part Four of Dangerous Pursuit (for @glitterypirateduck)

Nikola speaks. You and Price argue. You're returned to your old life.

Chapter Three // Chapter Five

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist

“I want to hear what Nikola has to say. You owe me that.”

“No. You’re staying in here.”

You throw your arm out to the side, pointed in the direction of the shut door. “We did all that. And you’re telling me I’m not allowed to see the results?” You drop your arm to your side. “Are you listening to yourself?”

“I hear perfectly well.” You scoff and Price grimaces, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to explain myself.” He points toward the concrete floor. “You’re staying here. In this room.”

You say each word slowly, letting them drip like venom from your fangs. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Listen to m—”

“Fuck you!” You try to walk past Price to the door, but he steps into your path, blocking your attempt to leave. Struggling to push by him only results in Price’s hands on your shoulders, halting you from reaching the door.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” you snap.

“I remember you liking my hands on you,” replies Price, one eyebrow arching.

Really? This is the time he thinks it’s appropriate to be flirty?

“I hate you.”

Price shakes his head. “No, love. You don’t.” You step backward and Price releases you, holding up his hands before dropping them at his sides.

“I want you to leave.” Price remains where he is. “Get out,” you reiterate.

“There is no reason for you to act like this.”

Now you’re truly angry. Raging. Fuck him. Fuck this place. Fuck all of it.

“You have no right to say that to me,” you say, one hand slicing through the air like an axe.

Price takes a step forward and you take a step back, not wanting to be in his space. “This behavior is childish.”

“Childish?” you laugh. “I have every reason to be this upset. You said all sorts of logical things to convince me to make that audio. To help you out. We—” your voice cuts out and Price’s shoulders stiffen. “We had sex,” you continue. “And then you tell me I don’t get to hear what Nikola has to say?”

Red hot rage simmers under your flesh. If the room wasn’t so bare you’d fucking throw something at him.

“Do you know how that makes me feel, Captain?” When he says nothing, you keep talking. “Do you? Because if you don’t, I’ll fucking tell you.” You lick your lips. “Dirty. I feel like a roach you’ve squashed under your boot. I feel used.”

Price glances at the floor but his features reveal nothing. You’re not sure what you want from Price right now. An apology? Shame? His own matched anger? And what do you want from yourself? How will this help you get anywhere? Things have already transpired. Neither of you can take them back. But fuck—releasing your frustration feels goddamn good.

He is silent a long moment, and it kills you inside, twisting like a knife to the gut.

“Nikola says he’ll talk. If anything he says involves you, we can discuss it,” says Price calmly, finally breaking the quiet.

All the raging fury evaporates. Disappears into the air like water vapor. In its place is cold frustration, and an acceptance that you despise.

“But you won’t allow me to hear it for myself?” Your voice nearly breaks and Price must catch it because he winces. “Why? Just—tell me that. At least. Please.”

Price’s gaze flicks up. It is piercing. Sharp. Slices right through your heart. “Because there are names and information that aren’t for you to hear. And you knowing them puts you in danger. I won’t have that.”

You shake your head, blinking away tears. “You don’t care about me.”

Price takes one step forward, crossing the distance between the two of you in a flash. It startles your resolve, stirs up your weakness for him all over again. “You have no idea how I feel,” he whispers. Those words are a secret, as if you shouldn’t be said at all.

Price is standing so close to you that you’re forced to look upward in order to see his face. In your peripheral, you notice his hand. It clenches into a fist, then releases, and inches toward your face before his fingers brush against your cheek.

It is a soft touch, one that you press against, seeking more. Price obliges, but not in the way you expect. His hand slides to the back of your neck and grabs hold. The switch pulls your breath from your lungs, dissolving all need for oxygen.

Using his hold on the back of your neck, Price draws your faces together until your noses are close to touching. “I should have taken you on the table,” he murmurs. “I regret that.”

As quickly as the words leaves his mouth, Price is turning away, releasing you from his grip, and heading for the door. Your lips part and your body leans forward, missing his absent touch. When the door shuts and the lock falls into place, you’re not even mad. Instead, you go to the edge of the bed, and sit. A heaviness growing in your chest.

That is where Price leaves you. There is no clock or anything to tell the time while you’re stuck in that room. You’re left with his words hanging in the air. You’re left with a twisted stomach, and a violently awful sensation of something unfulfilled.

At some point you drift off, and it isn’t until someone is waking you that you realize you’ve fallen asleep. You sit up and almost smack heads with Skull Face. Ghost is the name you’ve heard, but you also remember Price calling him Simon. But you are not on familiar terms with this man, and ultimately decide to not address him by his first name.

Ghost immediately draws back, towering over you next to the bed. He looks like a creature out of hell the way he’s standing there. It’s fucking creepy.

“Price wants you,” he says in his gruff voice.

So, he’s not going to come get you himself? Fine. It’s not like you care. It’s not like any of this means anything in the end.

Ghost takes a step back as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. You follow him out the open door and back to the aboveground area. Price is standing near one of the cars. He’s in civilian clothes and completely out of place.

“That’s all, Simon,” says Price as you and Ghost come to a stop next to him. Ghost nods at Price, not even addressing you as he departs. Price taps the side of the beat-up pickup truck. “Ready to go?”

“Go where?” you ask slowly.

“Home.”

Hope blooms and then swiftly departs. A small part of you wants to fight, to tell Price to go fuck himself, but this means you’re leaving this place. The sooner you return to your old life, the sooner this will all fade into memory. A terrible and unfortunate memory.

But is there a catch? All this and now Price is letting you go? Something isn’t right. There has to be more, and yet this may simply be anxiety rearing its ugly head. That happens all the time. You’ve been stomped on and walked over your entire life. All you’ve known are ulterior motives. Why would Price be any different?

“Yeah,” you nod, understanding that this is your only choice. “I’m ready.”

There is no talking as Price opens the passenger door and gestures for you to climb inside. When you step up to it and hoist yourself in, Price places his hand just above the curve of your ass. His touch isn’t exactly helpful but it does send heat straight between your legs, and you hate that it does. Price isn’t your enemy but he’s not your friend either. It also doesn’t help that you keep thinking about his mouth, and what he did with it.

Once you’re seated, he walks around the front of the truck and hops into the driver seat. Inserting the key, Price brings the car to life. You keep your gaze locked on the dirty windshield. Your hands are in your lap and they won’t stop shaking. Shoving them between your knees, you pretend that you’re trying to stay warm as Price maneuvers the vehicle out the barn doors and onto a dirt road. Glancing back over your shoulder, you watch as Gaz closes up the safehouse.

It is an end, and a beginning. This part is shut. Gone. No going back.

But you and Price are driving toward something. You have no idea what it might be, but this isn’t over. It’s not done.

The sun dips below the horizon. The truck’s headlights are shit, but they do enough, illuminating the uneven road. You’re jostled around, teeth clacking against each other every time the truck dips until Price turns out onto paved road.

You have no idea where the two of you are, and you’re not sure you want to ask. Right now, you’re still sour from your earlier conversation with Price. He left you hanging and alone, those goddamn words repeating over and over again in your mind.

I should have taken you on the table. I regret that.

If anyone is going to talk right now, it’ll be Price. You’ll keep silent the entire fucking ride even if it’s unbearable. You won’t give in first. You won’t.

Price’s grip on the steering wheel is knuckle-white. He’s only using one hand. The other is on his thigh and those fingers won’t stop twitching. You pretend not to notice. You pretend that you don’t see Price’s itch or that your own sizzles beneath your skin. It would be so easy to reach over and touch him.

So. Fucking. Easy.

Price’s hand tightens on the steering wheel. “Nikola talked about you.”

“And?” you ask, briefly glancing at Price before looking back at the road.

“Let’s just say Dimitri isn’t the leader he thinks he is.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

Price’s gaze flicks toward you. “Nikola isn’t happy with his boss. And you’re Dimitri’s favorite.”

You sigh heavily. “Very helpful, Captain.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Price shakes his head. “Nikola wanted to get back at Dimitri by taking you away.”

“Dimitri doesn’t give a shit about me,” you reply, knowing that isn’t true at all. Dimitri only wants you. He asks for you all the time. Calls you “Sparrow” instead of your name as if you’re his to do with as he likes.

“That’s a lie,” says Price. “You know that’s a lie.”

Price is calling you out on your bullshit, but you’re not going to contradict him, and you’re certainly not going to press the topic.

“What was the exchange?” you ask, maneuvering the conversation in a different direction. “What did Nikola give you that was so important?” You’re glancing out the passenger window but Price’s reflection is in the glass.

“Nikola gave us information. And I promised him to remove Dimitri from your life.”

You pivot so fast in your seat your head spins. “What?”

“Dimitri won’t bother you anymore,” states Price, but there is a growl to his voice, as if Dimitri’s presence in your life bothers him. Which it fucking shouldn’t, because you and Price aren’t anything to each other.

“I won’t see him again? Ever?” you ask. When you walk into work on Saturday night and Dimitri isn’t there, does that mean he’s gone for good? That Price and his team did what they set out to do?

“You sound upset,” replies Price, but the humor in it is clearly forced.

“Bite me,” you mutter, returning your gaze to the windshield.

The corner of his mouth turns up into a smile and he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. You might have your gaze fixed on the windshield, but you’re not immune to your mind slithering through all the possible things Price might be thinking. It causes your cheeks to heat, and for the space between your thighs to warm.

You shift in the seat, fingers digging into the fabric of your pants. You need to get a fucking grip on yourself. This is ridiculous. Embarrassing. There is no reason for you to be acting this way. It doesn’t matter that you understand how his mouth feels or how his fingers feel inside you.

You’re not going to break. You won’t fall apart for him. Not again.

“Dimitri will disappear but I’ll need your cooperation.”

Your reply is immediate. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m not asking.”

You shake your head in disbelief. You want to go home. You want to forget about all of this. To forget about him. About Price. “And I’m not helping you.”

Price shrugs, and it’s so casual you could scream. This man is infuriating, and the way he seems so sure has you on edge. If the truck wasn’t on the highway, you’d open the door and throw yourself out of it just to get away from him.

The rest of the drive is completely silent, and when he pulls up to your apartment building without even asking for directions, you know running from him is fruitless. That is even more apparent when Price parks the truck and gets out of the vehicle to accompany you to the door.

“I can walk myself,” you mutter, but Price is already grabbing onto your elbow, bringing you along with him as he escorts you to your apartment.

Once there, and you unlock the door, Price barges in before you can take a step inside. “Stay here,” he says before disappearing into the dark interior.

“Stay here,” you mimic, completely ignoring his order and following him inside. He checks every room including the closets and underneath the bed.

“Looking for monsters?” you sigh, leaning against the doorframe.

Price pops up from the far side of your bed. There is a deep frown on his face, and you’d almost call it cute but catch yourself at the last second. Using the edge of the bed as leverage, Price returns to his full height. He walks around the side of the bed, and nearly swaggers up to you. There is a soft sway to his hips that immediately makes you alert and aware of every inch of him.

“You’ve been mouthy today,” he murmurs, moving into your space. There isn’t anywhere for you to run off to. You’re trapped between him and the doorframe. “If you keep this up, I will toss you onto that bed and fuck the attitude right out of you.”

What. The. Fuck.

You swallow, all that haughtiness slipping away like ice in the sun. But you hold on to just enough for a reply. “Is that a promise, Captain?”

Price’s knee slots between your legs, opening you up. “It’s a goddamn guarantee, love.”

Your heart thunders in your chest, quickly moving toward your ears. His head dips, lips dangerously close to brushing over yours.

This can’t keep going. The two of you can’t keep doing this. Whatever this is, it needs to end, even if you do want him to follow through.

Placing both hands on his chest, you push. Price only draws back enough to give you the slightest bit of space. His knee is still between your legs and he has one hand planted firmly above your head on the doorframe.

“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean,” you murmur. “Someone might think you’re a liar.”

Price’s other hand falls on your hip, and crawls upward to your waist. “Does this someone want to find out?”

Yes.

But you don’t say it. You don’t give in to him. “You should leave.”

Price’s hand on your waist squeezes. “Is that what you want?”

You know what Price is asking. He’s asking for permission. He’s asking for your consent. This man wants to fuck you. That is apparent by the bulge in his pants. But allowing him to push you onto your hands and knees won’t solve anything. It’ll only satiate the need to feel him moving inside you.

Autonomy is slipping through your fingers fast—too fast. If Price doesn’t move away from you, you will gladly arch your back and present yourself to him.

With a hint of a shake in your voice, you answer him. “Please leave. Please.”

Price’s features melt a bit. Soften. The concern is there as well as acceptance. He wanted you to say yes. He wanted you alone, to open up for him in private instead of at that safehouse. The thought of Price desiring you for himself without any interruptions stirs a warmth in your belly. It goes all the way down to your toes.

Slowly, Price releases his hold on your waist, and he pushes off from the doorframe. Finally, you have room to breathe, to not feel caged even if his closeness is a balm to sore muscles. You draw your arms across yourself like a shield, knowing that this is it. This is your departure.

Price visibly swallows. “Saturday, we’re going after Dimitri. Your help is appreciated but not required.”

You laugh softly. “Now I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice.”

Price doesn’t just mean helping him take out Dimitri.

“If I were to help you,” you begin. “What do I need to do?”

Price reaches into his pocket and digs around for a few seconds before retrieving something small and black. “Tag him. With this.” He holds it out to you.

You present your hand, palm upward, and Price makes the exchange. The tag is incredibly small, no larger than the nail on your pinky.

“How am I supposed to tag him with this?” you ask, skeptical.

“Get close,” answers Price. “Slip it into a pocket. Attach it to him in a place that isn’t visible. Wallet. Cell phone. A weapon. Anything.”

You stare at the little device and frown. “Why can’t you just follow him or track his car?”

“Nikola told us Dimitri drives a different car every week. Rentals mostly. We have no idea what he’ll pull in with until he arrives.”

You clench the tracker in your fist. Price is asking for too much. This is far too risky for you to do on your own. If they’re successful in picking up Dimitri, there is a chance that his capture won’t blow back on you. But if they fuck up, or Dimitri finds the tracker before Price and his team snag him, you’re done.

And you don’t want that kind of heat.

“I’m sorry,” you say, shaking your head, presenting the tracker to Price. “I can’t. It’s too risky.”

Price only nods, taking it from your open palm. “I understand.” He deposits the device back into his pocket.

The two of you stare at one another, hanging in stretching silence. This is it. You won’t see Price again until Saturday, and you cannot guarantee that you’ll actually see him at all. The bed is right there. You could grab him by the belt, pull him in, push him down onto the bed, and straddle him.

Would he let you take control, or would he flip you onto your back and seize all your autonomy for himself?

“It’s late. I’ll go.” Price’s voice is a blade. It is the finale. The farewell. Silver and sharp and so blatant there isn’t any other way to understand it for what it is.

You can only nod, all the bite from you gone.

The walk to the door is sludge. You don’t even recognize your feet moving with Price. You don’t recognize the broad expanse of his back or the opening of the front door until it shuts in your face, leaving you with the quiet hum of the nearby refrigerator.

Life resumes. It beats on as if nothing happened at all.

No one from work checks on you, and you don’t hear a single fucking word about Chase. Everyone around you continues on. And here you are, knowing that you were kidnapped, involved in a car crash, pulled from wreckage, and then brought to a safehouse where you and Captain Price nearly fucked each other’s brains out on a table.

You believe, perhaps naively, that Price might be a guest at Thirst or even a member of security. While the owner’s hire private security, you don’t put it past Price to figure out a way in. You also consider that you might not see him at all. That you can go about your night without noticing his presence.

How wrong you are.

Saturday night, and Dimitri is here. You do everything you’re supposed to do before heading to his VIP room. The process is the same, and you’re nervous, unsure of what to expect.

But you don’t expect Price.

You didn’t anticipate that he would be in the VIP room with Dimitri.

When you step up onto the raised platform, you nearly drop the tray you’re holding. It’s not only because Price is here and impeccably dressed. There is no tactical gear. No cargo pants or boots. Price wears all black. His shoes are neatly laced and polished. His slacks are perfectly pressed and free of wrinkles. That doesn’t include his button up shirt. With the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to show off his massive forearms, Price looks very much the part.

He oozes sexiness. Your gaze scans his entire body, entirely focused on how the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a bit of dark chest hair.

But it’s not only his appearance that has you on alert. While Price is a delicious sight, one of the dancers Dimitri always orders gyrates in Price’s lap. The pounding music that comes through the speakers is a distance thing, and the blood red lighting Dimitri always prefers seems completely insignificant.

Megan is the one in Price’s lap. They’re not having sex, she’s just performing a lap dance, but your heart doesn’t seem to care. It also doesn’t seem to care that Price appears absolutely uninterested. His arms are draped across the back of the sofa and his gaze is fixed on a point beyond her even though it appears that he’s watching her.

You see all of this, your brain processes it, but your heart won’t stop thundering in your chest. This is stupid. Ridiculous. Price is not yours. There is no relationship. Yes, the two of you had sex—well, not explicit sex, but Price did rub his dick against you until his cum coated your inner thigh.

That isn’t much, and you shouldn’t feel this goddamn territorial about him. But you do, and you hate that it’s starting to eat away at your pride.

You swallow down the building hurt, moving closer to the small group. Nikola is absent but Lev and Abram are both here. Addie lounges in Lev’s lap, her glittery heels sparkling even in the blood-tinged lighting. Olivia is in her usual place on the secondary platform where she dances against a pole.

Always the same people. Dimitri never waivers.

You present the vodka and begin distributing the first round of drinks. The last task involves Dimitri’s cigarettes. You kneel next to the table, measuring out the tobacco to begin rolling them.

“Sparrow,” croons Dimitri. “I’ve missed you.”

You straighten your shoulders and glance up at the speaking demon. “Always a pleasure to see you, Dimitri.”

Dimitri’s grin is feral, nearly vicious. “We have a guest.” Dimitri gestures toward price. “I brought a special…friend. Say hello, Sparrow.”

You shift your gaze toward Price, lifting one of the cigarette wrappers to your mouth. Your tongue slides along the appropriate portion. Price’s gaze is locked in, completely focused on you.

“Good evening, friend of Dimitri.” You’re teasing without even trying, and Price notices because he licks his lips to hold back a grin. You glance back at Dimitri and smile softly, rolling the cigarette with perfect precision. “I didn’t know you’d bring a guest. I would have checked in first.”

Dimitri dismisses your comment with a wave of his hand. “Last minute arrangement.”

You nod and use the table to push to your feet. Picking up a pack of matches, you saunter over to Dimitri, giving him your best smile. Your face aches from it but you’re not going to show weakness. No one needs to know how nervous you are.

You place the cigarette between Dimitri’s lips and then strike a match. Doing so requires you to lean in a bit, to stand close to Dimitri. And that asshole uses it to his advantage. Dimitri’s hand grabs the back of your bare thigh as you bring the lit match up to the end of the cigarette. He doesn’t dig his fingers in, just rests his hand against the skin.

You can imagine Price doing this, touching you with this bit of possession. But Dimitri’s hand against your flesh is agony. It is a blow. A knuckled fist breaking jaw bone.

The end of the cigarette glows as Dimitri inhales. You shake out the match. When you try to step away, Dimitri holds firm to your thigh, squeezing like you gave him fucking permission.

The man might be a dick, but he has never outright touched you in this manner. This is new, and you suddenly remember what you and Price talked about in the truck. How Nikola sought to take you away from Dimitri because you’re his favorite.

Dimitri exhales and you hear the pleased sigh. “You always do a fabulous job, Sparrow.” Dimitri squeezes your thigh one more time and then lightly pats it before dropping his hand.

“I aim to please,” you reply, immediately putting enough space between the two of you so that he can’t reach out to touch you again.

You turn toward Price and freeze.

Price’s stare is stony but his clenched fists are murderous. It’s very clear that Price wants to punch Dimitri in the face. A sweet bolt of satisfaction shoots through you, but Megan still moves in Price’s lap which severely diminishes anything you’re feeling toward the man.

“What can I bring you?” you ask, not even offering the menu.

“Whiskey,” replies Price.

“Any preference?”

“Bring us the most expensive bottle,” interjects Dimitri. “My friend here is about to make me a very rich man, and I would like to repay him in kind.”

“Of course,” you nod, making this your exit.

You’re nearly shaking by the time you go into storage and grab the most expensive whiskey off the shelf. It runs close to twenty grand a bottle. When you present it to Dimitri back in the room, he hardly glances at it.

Megan is no longer in Price’s lap. She’s moved on to Abram.

As you prepare the whiskey glass and pour the first draw, Dimitri’s voice catches your attention. “You’re shaking, Sparrow. What has my sweet girl so nervous?”

You want to snap at Dimitri, tell him how much you hate that name, but you put on your best customer service smile instead.

“Not enough sleep,” you laugh casually.

Dimitri only smiles, and it’s not kind. It’s muck. Grime. Coal dust in the lungs. He glances toward Price and his grin widens. “This place provides whatever you want. How about one of the women? My treat.”

“They’re all very beautiful, Dimitri,” replies Price. “But I don’t like to pay to have my dick sucked.”

Dimitri laughs and drapes an arm over the back of the sofa. He takes a long drag on his cigarette. “That can be arranged.”

You cork the whiskey bottle and set it down on the table.

“Sparrow.” Dimitri’s sharpness pulls your attention to him immediately. He nods toward Price.

Is he? No. No.

“Yes, Dimitri?” you reply because it’s all you can say.

“My friend here needs his dick sucked.” Dimitri just stares at you, one eyebrow arched. He appears passive but then you notice the gun on the table in front of him.

How do you play this? How do you navigate this situation?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

At that moment, Megan reaches over and plays with the front of Price’s shirt. “She can’t suck you off. But I can.”

You know Megan is only saying that to help you. She has no idea about you and Price. All she knows is that you are not being paid to do what she, Olivia, and Addie are already being paid for. And Dimitri never asks this of you. Never. He might be a fucking asshole, but he has only ever had you serve him drinks and fetch whatever he asks for.

It also makes no sense that Dimitri would tell you to do this when you’re supposed to be his favorite. That’s what Nikola told Price and his team. That’s why Nikola snatched you in the first place. Did Nikola lie? Or is Dimitri that fucking good at playing everyone?

Dimitri doesn’t even acknowledge Megan. His head tilts to the side, gaze still locked on you. “I don’t pay you to suck dick,” he says flatly.

No, Dimitri does not pay you for that, but he still pays you.

Your smile waivers slightly. It’s not the idea of getting down on your knees for Price. It’s doing that in front of everyone here.

When you don’t move immediately, Dimitri’s face becomes cold, all his features hardening. It is hellish, almost demonic in the way he shifts into this headspace. Your limbs become jelly, and you want to melt into the floor.

Dimitri nods in Price’s direction. “Go.”

You don’t move.

Price speaks up. “I also like my women willing.” He’s not saying that for Dimitri’s benefit. Price is speaking to you, drawing a line, giving you a choice where Dimitri isn’t.

Maybe Dimitri thinks you won’t deny him. That in this, you will not budge. But your eyes dart to the gun on the table, and its silent threat is enough to make you inhale and focus.

Dimitri’s hand not holding the cigarette forms a fist. “You disappoint me, Sparrow. And you know how much I hate being disappointed.”

The image of Nikola taking the bat to the man’s face flares in your head. That will not be you, and you don’t want it to be Price either.

Though your smile waivers, you manage to address Dimitri. “You’ve just surprised me is all.” You smooth out the front of your new cocktail dress, a replacement for the shredded one ruined in the crash. You glance at Price, and while you can’t read exactly what he’s thinking, you do notice the tightness in his brow, and his intensity.

His gaze is on you, shifting to Dimitri in silent observation. You don’t want this to escalate, and it’s not like Dimitri is asking you to suck his dick. You’d refuse him then. Easily. But Price?

At the safehouse you were ready to do just that. Even in your apartment you nearly caved and allowed Price entrance. The separation has only grown a longing in you. One that has become difficult to ignore. Almost every night, your hand has been between your legs as you thought of him.

Salvaging your pride isn’t all that important at the moment. Dimitri is a man you never want to cross. Denying him this might earn you anything. Sure, Dimitri might not shoot you, but he could do so many other awful things.

Dimitri nods again and gestures with an outstretched hand toward Price.

You need to restructure this in your head, present it as something other than what it is. Dimitri believes Price is going to make him a wealthy man. Price pushed away Dimitri’s original offer, and unintentionally offered up an alternative. You have no clue as to how Price and Dimitri are in the same room together, and what this deal might be. It’s likely fake. A ploy to draw Dimitri out.

When you move, your legs are heavy like lead. You walk through mud to arrive in front of Price’s slightly spread legs. Outwardly, he appears cool and calm, but notice the small tells. The twitching muscle in his jaw, the crease in the center of his brow, and the way his chest expands a little too rapidly for someone at rest.

Does anyone else notice? Or are you just that in tune with him?

Slowly, you step forward, and Price flexes his hips, lifting it slightly off the couch as he spreads his legs wider. As you start to sink, your hands go out to rest against the tops of his knees for support.

Your knees do not hit the floor.

Price’s arm snaps forward, his hand grasping the back of your neck. Inhaling, you tense at the grip. He draws you up his body, and buries his face against the side of your head. In this position, it might appear as he’s inhaling your scent or even kissing your cheek.

But Price is doing neither of those things.

“Follow my lead,” he murmurs in your ear.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @tapioca-marzipan @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @daemondoll @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan

[waggledoogledoggle]

⚠️Spoilers for Hazbin ep 4⚠️

⚠️Also, this post will talk about Abuse and SA, it is briefly mentioned a few times throughout the rest of this… whole long thingy I wrote⚠️

⚠️Also, brief mention of the scene where someone tried to drug Angel⚠️

Ok, I am just genuinely baffled at the people who somehow find a way to hate on 'Loser, Baby'.

Like, if you don't like Huskerdust that's fine... but 'Loser, Baby' is not overshadowing/brushing off Angel's SA. It's not victim blaming. And it's not Husk telling Angel to just shut up and get over it.

Like I've seen it so much, and you know what? Fuck it. Welcome to my TedTalk on why it's not all of those things.

For starters: Husk doesn't know about Angel's SA

When Angel has his vulnerable outburst (Side note, props to Blake I mean, they said 'take 5' he heard 'change lives') he talks about how he feels like he has to act the way he does to keep Valentino happy because he stupidly sold his soul to him. That he wants to get drugged up because that’s his escape. That he wants to be broken because maybe, just maybe Val will let him go. He wants to be free, but he can't and he has no one to blame but himself.

"What's the worst part of this hell, I can only blame myself" is literally the pre chorus to his song (Poison), and that is what he shares with Husk.

Not once does he bring up his abuse or SA. If he did, do you think a song would have even happened? Look how Husk reacted when someone tried to drug Angel's drink! Now that Husk actually genuinely cares about him? Dead. Dead. Valentino would be dead.

Us knowing about Angels situation in full is dramatic irony which is, essentially, we as the audience know more/are given more insight than the other characters. We were given the insight of Angel's true trauma that he deals with on the daily. Husk and the rest of the Hotel were not and have no idea what he deals with, the only one that even has an inkling is Charlie and even then we still know WAY more about Angel’s situation than her, so you can't really get upset at Husk for not knowing something he would have no way of knowing unless Angel shared it with him directly.

Moving onto the song itself, it's a song of empathy.

Allow me to explain.

Husk pinpoints perfectly what Angel is feeling in this moment:

"So things look bad, and your back's against the wall Your whole existence seems fuckin' hopeless You're feelin' filthy as a dive bar bathroom stall Can't face the world sober and dopeless You've lost your way, you think your life is wrecked"

When Husk starts singing, you can tell that Angel is expecting Husk to pull the whole "But that's not true! It's not hopeless! You're life's not wrecked!" and is very surprised when Husk doesn't.

Instead, Husks says "Yeah. You're right." And this is when a lot of the haters get angry- but hold on a second.

When someone is feeling all of those things, saying things like "That's not true! You'll be ok!" aren't helpful at all. That's brushing it off. Even if it may be true, that doesn't help anyone when they're feeling like hopeless, lost, losers.

Because that's sympathy, not empathy. Sympathy is feeling for someone, and trying to make them feel better. Empathy, is not trying to make them feel any certain way- better or worse- empathy is simply feeling with someone. And that's what Husk does.

During the first chorus, Husk is clearly teasing Angel a bit while doing so, but not without good reason. It's keeping Angel from closing back up again, he's being a little bit silly with him and teasing him. I mean, did you see the silly lil walk he did crossing in front of Angel? And Angel is super confused because he's like "how tf is this supposed to make me feel better??"

That's the thing. It's not. That's sympathy's job, not empathy's. Empathy just want's you to feel felt with, it doesn't want to tell you how to feel. And adding that bit of silliness gives Angel's vulnerability a chance to breathe and it prevents Angel from closing in on himself.

The next verse, pre-chorus, and chorus is when the empathy though really kicks in.

The next verse, is the first part of empathy: Sharing about a similar experience you went through.

In this verse, now that Angel is listening not just hearing, Husk shares that he has been gruesomely damaged. Calling back to what he shared literally seconds before the song. That he knows what it's like to sign away your soul, and constantly look back at it with huge amounts of regret. That knowing that moment is what turned him into the mess he is today, and that he has no one to blame but himself. Just like Angel.

Then in the pre-chorus where there's the whole:

"I sold my soul to a psychopathic freak Haha! And you think that makes you unique? Get outta here, man!"

That isn't Husk telling Angel to get over himself and this isn’t him undermining what Angel’s been through. That's him saying 'I did too, you're not alone’

And then the very simple word change from "you're" to "we're" in the chorus is SO FREAKING HUGE. Because Husk is essentially saying "You feel like a total loser right now. Ok. Then if what happened to you/what you went through makes you a loser, then I'm a loser too. Let's be loser's together." Instead of trying to make Angel stop feeling like he's a hopeless loser, he decides that he is too.

He meets Angel where he is.

Aka: ✨empathy✨

Angel finally feels seen, understood, felt with. All the goals of empathy. He no longer feels alone in what he is struggling with, which is HUGE! Especially for people going through/dealing with SA and abuse.

The bridge of the song, is also extremely important, because this is where they acknowledge the differences in what they're going through. Their root problem is the same, but how it messed up their lives and created the problems they deal with now are completely different

And that's around when the song begins to shift from just Husk showing empathy and comforting Angel, to them both finding comfort in each other.

Which you can clearly see by the chorus under the umbrella, where it's not just one of them singing the chorus, but it's both of them. Because they have found a place to go to and confide in, a place of comfort, with each other.

Like, I am genuinely concerned that people find this song toxic like... have- have you never experienced empathy before? Are you ok?

So yeah, to wrap this up, if you don’t like ‘Loser, Baby’ just because you don’t like the song in general? That’s fine (odd, but fine)

But if you hate it because it “undermines Angel’s experience and what he goes through” I…

words.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[miyuhpapayuh]

Shame on me.

“It’s a shame for you,

It’s a shame for me..

Is the blame on you?

I could say the same for me!

After the wrong, is there a right?”

That’s exactly what she was wondering as she watches her boyfriend of one year, Lucky, sing to another random girl on stage.

It wasn’t even the fact that he was singing to them, because she understood the attraction that women had towards him, and she couldn’t blame them.

But, she didn’t think there was any real reason why he should be getting down on his knees and gripping them up and being all in their faces.

She’s expressed her slight frustration, once, and he chalked it up to her being paranoid. And of course, when that wasn’t enough to make her calm down, he fucked every doubt right out of her mind.

But, that only holds over for so long.

So, here they are again. Lucky out there on bended knee making some pretty brown girl squeal with joy, while his lover fumes behind the curtains.

After the show was over and the pair were on their way home, the unwanted conversation lingered in the air.

With her arms folded across her chest, she stared out of the window at the dark blue sky, while Lucky kept a tight grip on the steering wheel, already knowing that this was about to tear up his nerves.

“Wassup, baby?” He asks, briefly looking in her direction. “Why you facin’ the window?”

“Hm. I could think of a couple reasons, but I’ll keep ‘em to myself.”

He sucks his teeth. “Let’s not do this, tonight.”

“That’s why I said I’ll keep ‘em to myself.” She snaps, looking in his direction.

“Here we go.”

“David, please. If you’re not gonna be real, then just leave it alone.”

Taking offense, he pulls into an empty lot and parks the car.

She rolls her eyes, not moving her position. “It’s dark out here and you playin’.”

“I’m not playin’. I’m bein’ real. Wassup witchu?” He nudges her arm, pissing her off.

“You know exactly wassup with me. But, it ain’t no big deal to you, so whatever.”

“You sure? Cause, it’s whatever doesn’t sound like a very solid stance.”

She rolls her eyes. "Leave me alone."

He stares at her. “You gon tell me what's got you so angry or is it still whatever?"

“Fuck you, Lucky. Seriously.” She spats, fully facing him. "You know why I'm upset. It's why I'm always upset, with no good reason, according to you."

“You know what? I don’t know what it’s gonna take for you to understand. Why we gotta argue? You don’t see me blowin’ up at you for them lil stunts you be pullin’!” He responds.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Right. We got amnesia, now? You don’t be posting half naked all over Instagram, every week?”

“Are you serious, right now?” She asks.

“Dead serious.  You always trippin’ and goin’ on bout me and what I be doin’, like you ain’t out here lookin’ like you want some attention.”

“Well, I wonder why the fuck that is!” She huffs.

“So, that’s my fault too, huh?” He chuckles, resuming his driving to their destination.

“Fucking duh.” She grumbles, continuing to stare out of the window.

“I’m not looking for anybody’s attention, but yours. You stupid motherfucker. But, you’re too busy giving it to them heffas you call fans.”

“You act like I’m cheating on you.”

“You might as well be.” She quips.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to have a rational conversation.” He pats her knee, chuckling again as she jerks away from his touch.

Back at home, the pair’s annoyance with each other continued to fester.

“Aren’t you tired of walking back and forth, yet?” Lucky asks, growing tired of her pacing the expansive floor in front of their bed. “Come sit down, please.”

“Not if you’re not gonna listen to me. I might as well go downstairs.”

“I’m listening to you! I’ve been all ears, all night!” He grows defensive, his voice rising by the slightest.

“Lucky, fix your tone.” She warns.

Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. “Please, just come and sit down.”

Reluctantly sitting down beside him, she looks up at him. He’s already staring back at her.

“Talk.”

“I’m not cheating on you. I go out on stage and do my job. You know I love my fans. I just go out there and make ‘em happy. That’s it. I’m sorry that I made you feel disrespected and neglected, baby. That was never my intention.” He frowns, reaching out to grab her hands into his own.

“You know how I get.. it’s no excuse, but I just can’t handle someone being that close to you. Touching you and clinging onto you like I do. And, it makes it worse when you indulge, but I know that’s your job. I got it. I’m sorry, too.”

“That’s how I felt, when you was postin’ that shit on the gram.” He snorts, “had ya ass hangin’ out, muhfuckas lookin’ at my goods and shit.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” She pouts.

“I should bend you ova’ my knee,” his deep brown eyes glow in the dimly lit room. She fails to hide the smirk growing on her lips.

As the tension leaves the room, it’s quickly replaced by lust so thick, it clouds their minds.

“Come’ere.” She beckons him with a single finger, resulting in him tackling her into the sheets, pulling and yanking at her clothes, until she’s as naked as the day she was born.

She tugs on the bottom of his shirt, before his hands place hers on the bed. “Stay just like this.”

Kissing her rebuttal away, his lips touch every part of her skin as he sinks into her lap, guiding her long legs over his shoulders.

Her hands quickly thread into his coils, tugging as his tongue glides over her clit, down to her opening and back up.

Over and over.

“Oh fuuuuuuck!” She moans.

“Mmmmh,” he moans against her, driving her wild. His hands rubbing up and down her sides.

“Shit!,” she breathes. “Just like that!”

Adding his index and middle finger to the equation, she explodes in no time.

But, he didn’t cease, until he brought her to another climax so intense, she damn near pushed him away.

He chuckles, rising up from the bed to strip.

“I ain’t even gave you this dick yet, baby. Don’t tap out on me, yet.”

Sinking back into between her legs, his eyes lock on hers as they move in sync.

“I love you,” he mumbles over her parted lips, her breathing slowly picking up.

“I love you, too.”

Hips grinding against hers, poking at that spot that seizes her up.

“Yes, babyy… that’s the spot.” She whines, sinking her nails into his hips as he picks up speed with every thrust, til he’s damn near pounding into her.

“My god!” She whimpers, lifting her head up to look between them at the mess they’re making, not getting far as Lucky pushes her head back towards the pillows.

“So fuckin’ good… mmm!” He growls, hand cupping her face.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna—- oooh shit, baby!” Her legs open and close around his thighs, fighting off her release.

“Cum on this dick, baby,” was enough to drive her over the edge, her nails digging into his back.

Tossing her onto her stomach, he wastes no time sliding back into her. She bites down on her bottom lip.

“Don’t get all quiet now… talk yo shit, babe.” He taunts, easily locating one of her many spots.

“Unh… fuck you,” she moans, rolling her hips against him.

He deeply chuckles, smacking her ass. “Fuck me, huh.”

“Mmmhm.. I hate you.” She teases, smirking once he grabs the front of her neck and begins to drive into her, roughly.

Her mouth falls open, nothing but gasps escaping as his strokes actively take her breath away.

“You hate me… but, you love when I get up in this pussy, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“You love when daddy make you cum, don’t you?”

“Yesss, yes! Deeper… deeper, baby!” She yells, drunk on his stroke.

Doing just that, he touches her soul with just a few thrusts, her eyes almost rolling out of her head.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping the sheets in her hands. “Right there, babyyyy… right there!”

“I’m where you need me, baby?”

“Yeah! I’m gonna cum— I’m gonna cum!” Her arch begins to falter as her orgasm shatters through her, pulling him down as well.

“Ah shitttt,” his grip on her neck tightens, before slowly loosening as he fills her with his warmth.

“Mmh,” he sighs, pressing kisses up her spine as she comes down from her high. “You still mad at me?”

They share a laugh.

Some toxic filth for y'all lmao enjoy!

@ghostfacekill-monger @sheabuttahwrites @honestpreference @harmshake @thegifstories @blackerthings @henneseyhoe @brwnsugababe @soufcakmistress @abeautifulmindexposed @twistedcharismaaa @headcannonxgalore @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @cecereads209 @nayaxwrites @planetblaque @starcrossedxwriter @megamindsecretlair

[veren-cos]

Just Let Me In

Astarion (Bg3) x reader

TW: Contains mentions of self-harm. Do not read this if you are not in an okay mental state. If this is something you struggle with, I strongly recommend you reach out to someone.

"I just need you to let me in." He held on to your hands, tightly grasping you. It's as though he thought if he let you go, you'd disappear. "I see you. I see you're hurting. I see you're hurting yourself!" He makes a gesture to you and your new scrapes and cuts. "But I need you to talk to me! I can't help you if you don't let me!"

You looked away. It had been so long since you had hurt yourself. So long. You were doing so well. And then it hit. You had tried to hide it, but Astarion knew every part of you. He knew something had changed.

Tears began picking at your eyes. You turned back and just stared at him. Every time you tried to speak, nothing came out.

And then tears spilled.

"My love, my darling. It's okay. I'm not.. Upset." He made a face. "Okay I'm upset. But I'm not angry. I could never be angry at you. I'm upset because you didn't talk to me. Because you felt like you couldn't, given your stammering."

He pulled you into a loose hug, and then led you to a chair. Once he had you sitting, he got a cup of water, and set it on the desk next to you. He crouched in front of you, and reclaimed his hold on your hands.

"Take a deep breath." He didn't need to breath, but he made a bit of a show to get you to follow his lead. "There you go, Darling. You're okay. Drink some water once you catch your breath."

It takes a while, but you finally stabled. Your breath was at a normal pace, and you weren't actively sobbing.

"Good. You are doing so well. Now." He made sure you were looking in his eyes. "Talk to me."

And you felt like crying. Again. Gods is this what you were going to do all night?

"I'm sorry."

"No." He sighed, "No, don't be sorry. You didn't do this because you're sorry. You're sorry because you've hurt yourself. What is the cause?"

Another brief pause to calm your eyes. He held your hands as you began to speak.

"I don't know what to do with myself. Any reason that I could possibly give doesn't seem good enough. I know I shouldn't be like this. I know I shouldn't do this. But it felt like I needed to...'

You continued, "Astarion.. Astarion, it had been so long, you have to believe me! I was doing so well! I have been trying so hard. I dont know why I'm like this, and I don't know how to fix it. I'm sorry."

He pulled you into another hug, and leaned against you to keep his balance on the floor. "Shhh shhh..." He rubbed small circles on your back. "It's okay. You can do this. I'm right here. Keep going. It's okay."

You took a deep breath. "I don't like myself. I'm not good enough. I know you will just say that I am, but I could be doing so much more. All I want is to get this damned parasite out of my head. All I want is to be okay. Okay, and with you. But I don't know how to deal with this. It's too much. The only way I know how is with. Well. I mean you saw it. I don't think I can say it out loud. Not yet."

You had managed to get through your whole speech without crying. You clearly said every word, even through the shaky breaths.

"Well then let's start from there. I am so proud of you, darling. You have done so much. You have helped me - and our rag-tag bunch of idiots out there - more times than I can count, and more than you'll ever know. You are doing so well, and yes you took a step back. But that is okay. You will take two steps forward. And I will be right here."

Astarion pulled back from the hug to look you in your eyes. Even after crying, he still thought you were the most beautiful person in faerun. He made a note to tell you that later.

"I love you. And it will be okay. You will be okay. Now let's just take a moment to get you all fixed up. I can steal a potion of lesser healing from shadowheart maybe?"

You nodded in response, but with a look that said 'but no stealing' which he promptly ignored.

Once he came back, he had you drink it and then laid down. He gestured for you to lay beside him. But you settled on his chest, wrapping your leg over his waist.

"Thank you." You all but whispered.

"There is nothing to thank. Now sleep, my love."

You felt a bit better from the potion. It had sealed up the new cuts. Made it as if they were never there. But you knew. You knew that it would feel like it never went away. You still felt as though the wound in your mind was wide open.

But it would be okay. You had Astarion with you. He sat next to you as you went to sleep, your hand in one of his, and a book in the other. He quietly read out loud, enough for you to follow along but low enough as to not disturb you if you fell asleep. He cared for you. He cared for you so much you didn't know what to do with yourself.

So yes, it would be okay. He made it okay.

You had finally let him in.

Authors Note: Once again, if you are struggling with self harm or suicidal thoughts, please reach out for help. There are multiple help lines and resources depending on your region which are easy to find on Google. Talk to your friends. I promise things get better.

Ps. If there is a way I can more clearly label the trigger warning lmk, I wasn't entirely sure how to phrase it, but it serves its purpose.

[pyromegalomaniac]

I have a request... Wally Darling x abused reader... like the reader was abused in their past before they moved to the neighborhood... if my request upset you, I don't mind if you don't do it!

Oh, megacandy420, I'd love to do this one!! (Nice name by the way, ha.) I do believe I have some experience with verbal and maybe even physical abuse myself so I think I could do these pretty well!! Okay here goes the headcanons!! Enjoy!!

(♡˙︶˙♡)

Wally x abused!reader headcanons🍎🩹

(Obviously a warning ahead for heavy mention of verbal and physical abuse and its after-effects.)

Saying sorry a lot

Saying sorry for saying sorry too much

Wally always just laughs, looks at you gently and says "there's no need to apologize, dear."

Tending to ignore when you feel uncomfortable, which Wally has learned to recognize

He does his best to keep you feeling happy safe and comfy

Dropping a dish and thinking "I'm so stupid", being on the verge of tears as you clean it up

Wally coming over to help and reassuring you that everyone makes mistakes

When you call yourself a screw-up or something like that he'll tell you "no, and I love you" over and over again until you don't say bad things about yourself anymore

Stiffening up whenever you hear someone using an angry tone, even if it's not directed at you

Wally is always there to comfort you

You used to flinch when you just started dating Wally and he'd try to touch your face, but now you relish the gentleness he holds your cheek with

Not making any decisions purely for your own happiness (ex: getting yourself something nice or choosing what to eat for dinner)

Wally likes to get you little gifts so you know you matter to him

He tries to get you to do things purely because you want to do them, not to make anyone else happy

If you're ever standing around or whatever in a tense pose, he'll gently come in from behind and hug you

He'll ask you if you want anything from the store and insist it's no problem when you ask if he's sure

Laying in bed or on the couch and suddenly feeling like crying for no particular reason at all

He'll lay by you (either facing you or big spooning) and whisper to you and stroke your hair

He often wonders to himself why someone would ever treat you that way

If he ever met them he'd steal their kneecaps

Venting to him about your abuser or stuff that's going on right now

He just stares at you with a smile and nods while he listens

When you're done he pulls you close and makes sure you know that he loves you and that you deserve the world

Sometimes you'll fall asleep that way, laying with him as his arms are wrapped around you, stroking your hair and whispering to you...

These might've been influenced a but too much from my own personal experience, but I tried not to let it get too specific, heh. I actually think these helped me a bit with working through my own stuff, and I hope you liked them too!! Thanks so much for requesting these!! I look forward to writing more in the future!! Much love!!!

ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 27

Just two more chapters to go. The end and a short epilogue.

Here we have more communication and the girls threaten to murder Eddie if he leaves Steve sad again.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta|Pt 22|Pt 23|Pt 24|Pt 25|Pt 26

****

Steve and Eddie curled up on the sofa that must have been older then they were put together. But Steve didn’t care. He was wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Was that the reason you were angry all the time when you called?” he asked gently.

Eddie sighed. “Shit, I didn’t realize you were picking up on that. I was trying to keep upbeat and happy for you.”

“Babe,” Steve said, nuzzling their noses together, “I want to hear about the good and the bad. If you’re upset I want to know. I was so scared you had found someone else and didn’t know how to tell me.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. His first thought was to argue that he would never! But thankfully a second voice in his head, which sounded suspiciously like Wayne, prevailed. Steve didn’t know that. They had barely confessed to each that they did love each other, that they did want a relationship before the whole thing with Metallica fell in their laps. There was no way for Steve to know that.

He gathered up Steve in his arms and pulled him close. “I was angry at myself because I knew I was going to chose you. Because I love you more than I love the thought of fame and fortune. And that scared me how easy it was to chose you.”

“Especially since you knew I wouldn’t do the same?” Steve asked softly.

Eddie kissed the top of his head fiercely. “No, baby, because I knew you shouldn’t have to chose between your dreams and mine. Because I lived my dream. I can honestly tell people I toured with Metallica.”

“Aren’t you worried about what people are going to say when they ask you why you don’t tour anymore?”

“I tell them what I told everyone today,” he murmured. “That touring was too stressful and that it took me away from the people I loved.”

Steve kissed him tenderly on the lips. “Okay.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Just like that?”

Steve nodded. “I guess I just needed to hear you say the words. I believe you, Eds.”

Eddie hugged him tightly. “Bloomington isn’t that far away if we decide to take the deal. We’ll still see each other. Especially on the weekends and on the days you do my tattoo.”

“You still want me to finish it?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered. “I have the whole fucking members of Metallica following me on Instagram to see the final product. I wouldn’t want to disappoint the biggest metal band of all time, now would I?”

Steve giggled. “Yeah, okay. I’ll finish you’re tattoo.”

They kissed again.

“I’m not sure it would work,” Steve began, “but since you guys still need to practice for your weekend gigs, and since you’ll already be in town on Tuesdays and Thursdays, have those be your practice days and then be in the studio on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”

Eddie blinked. “I’m mean gas would be killer, but yeah, I think it would work.”

“And since Hawkins is in between Bloomington and Indy, you’d get to see Wayne more...”

Wayne walked out of the kitchen where he had been steadfastly trying not to eavesdrop. “If I didn’t like you enough already, Stevie, you’d be my new favorite person besides Ed.”

“Who is it currently?” Steve asked with a grin.

“Claudia Henderson’s pecan pie.”

Eddie and Steve laughed.

“Steve already is my favorite non-family member,” Eddie said kissing Steve on the cheek with a huge smacking noise.

“And how does Jeff feel about that?” Wayne asked with a chuckle.

“We already decided that Royal Pain employees and Corroded Coffin members count as family and not friends,” Steve said with a fond smile.

Wayne smiled back. “You’ve certainly got a good head on your shoulders, Stevie. Be good to each other, yeah?”

Steve and Eddie nodded.

Eddie turned to Steve. “You going to be staying tonight?”

Steve nodded again. “Yeah, I just have to be in at ten to open shop. I’ve already pushed back so many clients in the last couple of months, I really can’t do that again.”

“Robin get some grumbling when she rearranged your schedule for this?” Eddie asked, sitting on the sofa so that he he could prop his elbow up on the back of it.

“Vickie too,” Steve said with a nod. “She got so flustered on a couple of them that Robin had to take over.”

Eddie winced. “Yeah, you really shouldn’t miss anymore days, then.”

Steve leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what, if you’re good and get me to work on time, I’ll show you my new tattoo when you come in to do yours.”

Eddie lit up. “You have a new tattoo? Where?”

Steve tapped the space between his hip and side on his right leg.

Eddie licked his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yup,” he said with a seductive grin. “So how about it, Eds? You get me to work on time and you get to see my new tattoo?”

“Deal.”

Eddie stuck out his hand and Steve shook it.

“You boys have both had a long day,” Wayne said. “You should hit the hay, I’ll wake you up before I go into work, okay?”

Steve and Eddie agreed and got ready for bed, Eddie lending Steve a pair of sweats to sleep in.

Eddie took a moment to appreciate his boyfriend’s broad chest and tight abs. Both dusted with thick hair. He licked his lips slowly.

Steve caught him looking and laughed. “No fair trying to get a peek at my tattoo before you fulfill your half of the deal.”

Eddie pouted. “Just a little taste?”

“Come to bed you menace,” Steve said with a big smile.

Eddie scrambled into the bed and Steve took the other side. They wrapped up in each other’s arms and sighed happily.

“I’m happy you’re here, darlin’,” Eddie murmured.

“Me, too, sunshine,” Steve agreed. “You make me happy when skies a grey!”

Eddie poked his ribs until he squirmed away, giggling. “Sap!”

Steve kissed him, hot and searing. “So are you. Mr I wrote dozens of songs for you on the road.”

Eddie blushed. “Whole songs, too. Lyrics included. The boys knew I was missing you. Of course they did. They heard the songs I was writing. But I don’t think they knew how much until I told them today.”

Steve kissed him again. “Saturday night, you and me. After your gig, my place. I’ll make dinner. You sing me sappy love songs and I show you my tattoo.”

“Sounds good, baby.”

Soon the room was filled with the soft sounds of two people wrapped up in each other, like there was no one else in the world.

*

Eddie dropped Steve off at his apartment to get a shower and change clothes with promises that he would see him that afternoon.

So when he walked into the shop at nine with a spring in his step and smile on his face he didn’t blame Chrissy and Vickie for thinking he had gotten laid.

Steve laughed. “No, but we talked and we’re still going to take it slow, and see wait happens.”

“Lame!” Erica said, rolling her eyes. “You so lame.”

Steve eyed her. “Yeah and what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

Erica’s jaw dropped.

Chrissy pounded her palm on the counter. “Oooh...”

“Whatever!” she said and stomped back into her henna parlor.

“She’s eighteen,” Steve said with a shrug. “She’s got time.”

“Brochacho!” Argyle greeted as he came in, just behind Steve. “You made it back in time. Little Birdie was concerned.”

Robin squawked from her perch behind the counter. “What! I was no such thing!”

Chrissy tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

Robin blushed. “I may have been a little worried when you weren’t home by the time I left for the shop this morning.”

Steve waved hand over himself. “As you can see, showered, changed, and ready to go tattoo people’s poor life choices on their skin.”

They all laughed.

Chrissy pinched his arm on her way back to her room. “It’s good to see you smile again. And if he does that again, I’ll murder him. Got it?”

Steve nodded.

Argyle went to go setup Steve’s kit and left him alone with Robin.

“I’m with Chrissy, by the way. No one would find his body.”

Steve smiled. “Well, then you’ll be happy to note that the reason he was freaking out wasn’t because he was going to leave me for fame and fortune.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Oh, then why was he freaking out?”

Steve leaned on the counter. “Because he was going to leave fame and fortune for me.”

Her eyes went comically wide. “Seriously?!”

He nodded. “He said that the decision was so easy that he had to really think about it and make sure that’s what he wanted.”

Robin whistled long and low. “Now that’s devotion.”

“It really is.”

“So...” she said grinning slyly. “Has he seen the tattoo yet?”

He laughed. “Nope. I needed to make sure he was going to let me come into the shop today so I told if he got me here on time, then he can see it.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

Steve smiled. “He’s actually going to be coming in for his appointment today, too.”

Robin gasped and covered her heart with her hands. “What a shocker! That he wants to see you after not seeing you for three weeks!”

He swatted at her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. He’s head over heels in love with me and I am just as smitten as he is.”

She smiled at him fondly. “I’m happy for you, dingus.”

“Me, too.”

She laughed. “You’re happy for yourself?”

Steve grinned. “Hell yeah I am. I’ve got a hot boyfriend, the bestest best friend in the world, and a shop I’m proud of, why shouldn’t I be happy for myself?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin said waving him off. “I’ll call you when your first appointment gets here.”

“Love you, Chamberlainne,” Steve said, using her Royal Pain nickname, causing her to make a face.

“Argh,” she huffed. “There just aren’t any good names for the power behind the throne and still being a woman.”

Steve laughed. “Sure there is. It’s called the queen.”

Robin laughed. “Or even higher, empress!”

“Empress!” Steve crowed. “There we go. Empress Robin, the real power behind the king of Royal Pain.”

“And don’t you ever forget it.”

He kissed her cheek. “Never.”

As he walked back to his tattooing room, she watched him go with growing fondness. He really was her person.

****

Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

[grampstaxidermy87]

Are you able to write about poly lost boys x male reader who has bipolar? Maybe he's going through a depressive episode or something?

I’m here

An:Hello my lovelies! I’m back after my sudden hiatus, I am sorry this took me so long but life had gotten pretty hectic, all good things I promise! Anyways I do hope you like it! ❤️

Warning: Bipolar!Reader, Male pronouns used, poor mental health, Suicidal thoughts, Swearing.

It was hard to pinpoint an exact reason why my body suddenly refused to move, and yet my mind was racing. That voice that was usually in the back of my mind now took up all of my brain, telling me I wasn’t good enough,that I should just wither away because everyone hates me.

The stress was the worst part, making me feel ashamed for having emotions,that maybe I wouldn’t be feeling like this if I wasn’t so weak…if I were stronger I would be happy.

The blankets felt suffocating around me, but I felt nauseous of the idea of building up the energy to kick them off. Looking up with heavy eyes I saw my clock flashing ‘8:50’ which meant my boys were probably already at the boardwalk waiting for me while I laid here being useless.

That voice spoke louder,they were better off without me dragging them down, they would have more fun now that they didn’t have to worry about me.

Tears filled my eyes as I hugged my stuffed bear tighter, it was a gift from David after he had caught me staring at it and the next day I woke up to it sitting on my bedside table staring at me.

Of course the stoic leader denied having any idea of what I was talking about when I thanked him, but I could see the way his beautiful blue eyes softened when he thought I wasn’t looking.

It still smelled like them, to the point where I was pretty sure they each rubbed their scent on it just so I would end up smelling like them.

That thought brought a small hint of a smile to my face, I really missed them...

A sudden knock on the window beside my bed made me jump, "Babe? You sleeping?" Marko...

"Come on Doll, we know you're awake." David said sliding the window up and slipping inside, they didn't need permission to enter, I gave it to them so long ago that they just waltzed right in whenever they wanted.

"Aww look at our mate wrapped up like a cute little burrito!" Paul cooed hopping in and laying down behind me, I didn't bother moving over since he was just going to tangle himself around me anyways.

He had no idea how much comfort such a simple act brought me right now, the pressure helping to keep me grounded and not get lost in my spiraling mentality.

"Hey Baby boy, we missed you at the boardwalk. Are you feeling sick?" Dwayne's concerned eyes stared into mine as he knelt down beside the bed, reaching up to brush my matted hair out of my face.

"Physically yes..." David sat on his designated chair at my desk, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Is it happening again? Doll you should have called Max, he would have told us earlier so you didn't have to be alone." David scolded lightly, knowing I wasn't exactly thinking rationally when I was like this.

"I didn't want to bother anyone, I shouldn't need a babysitter anytime I feel a little sad." I huffed forcing myself to sit up, Paul fallowed and brought me back into his chest as he gently hugged me.

"Baby, this isn't just you being a little sad. We love you and want to be here for you, what kind of mates would we be if we can't help you with these kinds of things." Marko sat on the bed and took one of my hands, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles in soothing circles.

Despite how soft they were being with me I just felt so angry, defeated. I didn’t know how much longer I could deal with this stupid disorder.

“I love you guys too…I just wish I didn’t feel like this! I don’t even remember what triggered it this time…” I hadn’t even realized I was crying until Dwayne was wiping the tears off my cheeks.

“It’s okay to be upset my handsome prince, Your feelings are completely valid. But bottling it all up isn’t healthy,you’ll only end up hurting yourself. That’s why we want you to rely on us too.” The others voiced their agreements and I looked up as David approached and cupped my chin,making me shiver from the intensity of those striking blue eyes of his.

“You’re not going to scare us away,if that’s what you’re afraid of. We are immortal vampires who kill to survive, you being Bipolar isn’t going to make us change the fact that we love you more than you’ll ever know. We have killed for you,Ripped bastards apart for even looking at you the wrong way.” He said leaned down until our faces were inches apart.

“Isn’t that enough to prove our complete and utter devotion to you?” My breath hitched in my throat and he smirked when he heard my heart skip a beat.

“Such a romantic Davey.” Paul teased earning a smack up the head from Marko for ruining the moment,”Shut up Paul.”

They started arguing but stopped once hearing the quiet chuckle that passed my lips as i tiredly rubbed at my cheeks, “I love you guys, I’m so-“ ,”(Y/n), if the next two words out of you mouth are ‘I’m sorry’ I will smack you.” Dwayne warned successfully shutting me up.

“You have nothing to apologize for babe, You’re allowed to have emotions. And yea sometimes they really suck ass, but you’re not alone.” Paul cooed cuddling into me and pressing a kiss on my neck.

Marko moved to press a kiss to my cheek and sat back with a smile,“He’s right love, you’re stuck with us.” A teasing smile tugged at my lips and I playfully rolled my eyes, “Lucky me…”

The terror twins immediately tackled me back into bed, with feral grins and merciless fingers that tickled all the spots they knew by heart.

Dwayne and David stood off to the side, smiling at the three of us softly. They were happy to hear my laughter, no matter how far into my own head I got they would always be there to bring me back or offer a listening ear.

Because we were family, one big messy family.