#I know it was my raging anxiety but still😭

[valewritessss]

Sophie Foster is so real for the eyelash thing

[all-thestories-aretrue]

Holy fuck y'all i should NOT be awake 😭

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: I've been late posting this entire series 😭. i explained a bit when anon asked, but i LOST my compression gloves and got a new pair relatively quick on top of my $200 medication 💔 my wallet is in shambles guys

ANYWAYS thank you all for sticking around and bearing with me!! i kiss and hug everyone!! even though i haven't responded to comments lately, i read every single one and it always makes me giggle ♥️♥️

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 5

The drive back to your university with your mom was excruciating. You hadn’t told anyone what’d happened which meant you had to keep a happy demeanor around them throughout the holidays up until now. Dread had settled in your stomach once the drive began and continued to spread the closer you got, similar to when you’re headed to the doctors or the dentist, just a million times worse.

Texting Ella and Sky had helped a surprising amount, turning the majority of your anxiety into rage. Ella was furious when she found out, so her fury, and Sky’s, quickly became yours.

They hyped you up, ready to be at your side and assist in tearing “that shitty fratfuck” to shreds. The support meant so much after everything, especially after the reality of it all set in; you’d seen the picture via snapchat from someone you didn’t know, so how many others had seen it?

Your worst fear was being seen as easy, being used like you were. But you weren’t, were you? Your friends had made sure to try and convince you otherwise, you had to give them that, yet even with the facts laid out in front of you, it was still hard to divert your thoughts away from that ever-looming self-doubt.

Seeing the campus come into view only served to solidify those thoughts and feelings. No matter what Sky and Ella had tried or are willing to do for you, it just wasn’t enough to fix what’s been done.

Your mom helped you bring your suitcase up to your dorm, giving you a tight hug and a kiss on the temple before saying goodbye and heading on her way. Playing okay around your family all winter break was exhausting, so you just chose to sit in silence on your bed instead of unpacking your stuff. Always prepared, you wanted to get here a few days early, using unpacking and settling back in as an excuse, when really you just needed time to collect yourself before the inevitable happened.

He was here, and you were sure he’d seek you out eventually once he spotted you, or maybe when one his friends did and the word made its way back to him. Whichever way it happened, you knew it’d be unfavorable. 

“Hey,” Ella’s voice from the doorway caught your attention, “you look miserable..” How hadn’t you heard the door open? 

“I am miserable, but uh.. let’s just pretend I’m not, okay?” You replied, barely cracking a smile as you glanced up at her. 

She gave you a weak laugh in return, letting the door close as she slowly sauntered over to you, plopping down right next to you on the edge of the bed. “Fine, yeah. You haven’t shown me your schedule yet, by the way.”

“Oh, right-” you paused to reach over and grab your bag, rifling through the various papers in there until finally pulling out the schedule you printed out a couple weeks back. “It’s mostly the classes that aren’t fun.” You stopped to look at your schedule for a brief moment before passing the paper over to Ella, who quickly snatched it from your hand.

She squinted dramatically, holding the paper only a couple inches away from her face. “Yeaaah, these aren’t the best. At least it looks like you’ll have the majority of your pre-reqs out of the way for next year though.” Her observation made you chuckle with a nod.

“Which is what I’m trying to do. Work myself to the bone now, chill out later.” 

“Don’t kill yourself trying to do everything in one fell swoop.”

“I promise I won’t Ella, this is just how I-” A knock on the door drew both yours and Ella’s attention away from each other, an immediate scowl settling on her face. You wanted to ask, but it seems she already knew what you were going to say, quickly shushing you in a hushed voice, “Sky won’t be here until tomorrow night. Don’t answer that.”

You paused, thought for a moment, then nodded once with pursed lips. Ella was a pretty serious person, the mom of the group you could say, so when she pulled that tone, you knew better than to test it. Besides, you didn’t want to see who or what was on the other side of the door, you needed more time.

The next day was a little better, if uneventful. You finally brought yourself to unpack your suitcase, a chance to reorganize everything since you’d gotten a few new things over the holidays. Ella stuck close, bringing food up and into your dorm to take advantage of the empty mini fridge while the two of you binge watched a few random movies.

You stayed cozied up in your bed, having already mapped out and memorized your walking path for each class; longer, less foot traffic to and from. All you had to do was get through the rest of this year, that’s all. Little extra walking never hurt anyone, right?

When classes actually started, the long and complicated walks actually worked for a time; no one gave you strange looks, no one tried to talk to you, and it was pretty quiet. Scenic. But everyone knows everything good must come to an end eventually, and of course it had to be when you were just starting to forget all of this mess.

He caught you between classes. Scenic walks backfired massively when you realized there wasn’t anyone else around on that part of campus. Guess you didn’t think this one all the way through.

You couldn’t help but notice he looked pretty roughed up, sporting a few bruises along his cheekbone, a split lip, and a healing black eye. Seems he’s been busy over winter break.

“Listen, please listen-” Leon pleaded, holding his hands out in a weak attempt to trap you in the hallway. All this did was make you even more uncomfortable. “I know what I did was wrong, but I was not the one who sent that picture around, I swear.” You just stood in place after a few tries to get around him, giving him an almost bored stare. He didn’t really expect to finally catch you, so he stumbled over his words as he continued to ramble.

“I-.. I’m so, so sorry for doing that to you,” he slowly lowered his hands back down to his sides once he was sure you’d stay to listen, “I know that what I did was terrible, and I mean it when I say that I am sorry. I wish there was a way to turn back time and undo it, but I can't. I can't even explain why I did it in the first place, but that's not an excuse. I just- I messed up big time and I was- am stupid for letting it happen.”

To you this seemed sincere, but you really couldn’t be sure and it was safe to assume it wasn’t. Leon managed to trick you for months, who’s to say this wasn’t a trick as well? 

Your look turned skeptical, crossing your arms tightly against your chest with a shaky breath. Despite handling this better than you thought you would, it was still nerve wracking having this kind of talk.

“I'm not good at this, but I'm more than willing to do whatever it takes to make things right, if that's even possible..” Leon breathed out, panting as he tried to catch his breath after talking so fast. “I managed to uh-.. to find everyone who had the picture and I made them delete it.”

“I made them delete the picture.” He repeated, taking another moment to breathe before suddenly looking down to yank something out of his pocket. “I-I got your uh-.. these-” 

Seeing him hold up your panties so casually made you gasp, immediately looking around the hallway to make sure it was still empty before shooting him a glare, whispering a harsh “Put them back! Put them back!” which made him scramble to hide them in his pocket again. 

“Right- right, sorry! Sorry…” Leon was sweating at this point, growing increasingly anxious under your gaze. He didn’t want to mess this up any further, but man he was doing a pretty shitty job at that right now.

His hands were shoved into his pockets as well, both of you blushing with embarrassment, and also shame on Leon’s part. Once he managed to slow his breathing, he started to talk again, a noticeable frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “You don’t.. have to forgive me or anything, I just wanted to make sure you knew that hardly anyone knows and-” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly, turning his head to the side to look at the wall, “.. and that I’m sorry. I really do like you, I guess I just took a little too long to realize it…”

You made another quick glance over your shoulder before looking back at the man trembling in front of you who was still avoiding your gaze. You wanted to hate him so bad, so bad, but it was hard when all you could see was the Leon who was so sweet, the Leon who let you cry to him when the weight of the world was on your shoulders and made you feel so wanted and loved.

“Can we-” you cleared your throat and pulled the strap of your backpack further up onto your shoulder, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Can we talk later, maybe? Like, in my dorm? I don’t want anyone overhearing any of this..”

Leon perked up when he heard you talk, pulling his hands from his pockets to nervously rake his fingers through his hair, which was now partially damp from the sweat beading off his forehead. “Oh- OH! Yeah, of- of course, yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t- I just needed to-”

You waved your hands in front of your chest, shutting him up so he didn’t spill any further. "And throw those away." He nodded silently, wiping a hand down his face until it settled right in front of his lips, probably knowing he was talking too much at this point. 

There was one more class you needed to go to that day, so you hurried off after telling him to wait outside your dorm until you were done, and he promised he would. Very adamantly, too. At least he held true to his words, standing in the hallway right in front of your dorm room like a lost puppy when you turned the corner. It was cute for a second, though annoyance quickly replaced that feeling as you walked over and let him in.

You weren’t exactly ready to have a full blown talk, but then again, no one ever was. What made it easier was your roommate never returned that semester, assuming she dropped out, so you basically had the whole dorm to yourself for the rest of the year. Or until someone had a roommate issue and needed a change. Didn’t really matter to you at that point.

There was really only one thing on your mind and that was getting Leon to explain this whole ordeal to you. You needed detail, clarification, anything to help you understand what’d been going on behind your back during that time. And he did, telling you just about everything he could; who suggested the bet, who roped him into the idea, the second guessings he had since the start, how he could’ve done literally anything else to avoid the way it all played out, everything.

Obviously you couldn’t just forgive him like that, even though he kept telling you how sorry he was and how terrible he felt about it. You wanted to forgive him, but you weren’t ready, and he understood that. He would’ve been satisfied with any response you gave him, so having been given the chance to really explain and have you listen was more than enough in his eyes.

“And just so you know, my friends aren’t going to let you off the hook,” you pulled your legs up so you were sitting criss-cross on the bed, looking across at Leon who was sitting on the bed opposite of yours.

“Yeah, I know..” he chuckled awkwardly, reaching a hand back to rub at the nape of his neck. “I was honestly expecting them to jump me, but they just give me evil looks whenever they see me.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, making a mental note to question Sky and Ella about that later. “You’ll never get nice looks from them again and I won’t be vouching for you.”

Leon nodded, silence blanketing the room as you’d finally run out of things to discuss. Though it was awkward, it was nice to have him hanging around again. “Anyways,” you started, standing up from your bed slowly as you vaguely gestured towards the door, “I need to study, sooo…”

“Oh, yeah, totally, uhm..” he followed suit, standing up from the other bed before sauntering over to the door as you held it open for him. He walked out and turned around almost instantly, a small smile suddenly appearing on his face once his eyes met yours, his arms jerking upwards slightly as if to suggest a hug.

“Don’t push it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita @deadghxsty @nekoheist @dumbassmortal @cassiecasluciluce @iovewilliams @maeplayscello @deddiemunsonsblog @paranoid-but-android @mariesmain @tteokhwaa @bonnibuckets @eilonwykennedy @1dk-anym0r3 @papatyacikcik @animesnowstorm @lexi-zsy09 @mylifedoesntexist @ifeellikedying @yourmommylol04 @ravioli19 @dakiniii @papichulo120627

(few of your blogs won't pop up, i tried though 😩)

[haveateadude]

what did you give me to make my heart bleed out my chest?

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ cait 'visits' vi on her emo era

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ not proofread!!! mentions of alcohol, being drunk, and fighting as a way of punishment?? i think that's it lol

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ sorry if this is out of character. i tried my best!! really enjoyed writing this one.

OH AND HUGEEEE CREDITS TO WHOEVER DID THE FANART OF CAITLYN MEETING WITH VI WHEN SHE WAS EMO😭😭 and i think caitlyn said something like "this is what you're up to?".

i can't find the fanart ANYWHERE. if someone has it, tag the account pleaseeeeeee🙏🙏 it's the whole reason i wrote this!!!

with that being said, i hope y'all enjoy :))

Her knuckles never hurt. 

As she’s curled up on her so very cold bed, around bottles of alcohol, she realizes her knuckles never hurt because she never really pays attention to them. Never has a reason to, either—she always focuses more on the rage than on the pain, too angry to focus on how her joints feel when she moves them. But lately they never stop hurting and, and her body never stops aching. Especially on that one spot; the one that was left bruised and bloody. The one where Caitlyn had hit her—the worst part is that she’s had worse. She was on fucking prison, for fuck's sake. 

Vi never liked showing weakness, but lately is all she knows, all she is. Weak. Her mind is plagued with it. Every time she’s alone with her thoughts, she just goes: weak weak weak weak weak weakweakweakweakweakweakweak—until she’s too drunk to think. Too drunk to stay steady on her feet that she has to lay down, and then falls asleep until she has a nightmare.

She lies on her back, her head heavy. Pain creeps up behind her eyes. She blinks. Lifts her hand and opens her palm, then closes it. It hurts. She ignores it and sits up, drinking up of the alcohol left in the bottle that she almost finished yesterday. She thanks God she didn’t, or else she doesn’t know what she would’ve done to wake up.

She sighs when someone knocks on her door.

Great, she thinks, sarcastically. Another fight. Right what I needed.

Okay, maybe not what she needs, but what she deserves. She deserves to hurt. To be thrown around like some kind of trash bag and punched until she's coughing up blood. And she fights back. She fights back because that's what the people like, the people who come to see her want her to win, and she wins and wins and wins. And she likes it. Some sick twisted part of her likes to win, to hear the praise, to know she's not letting people down but making them cheer.

Maybe another fight wasn’t what she needed. She wins, but at what cost? Her limbs are sore as fuck. But, still, today is a good day. Today is better than other days. Sometimes she wakes up with her chest burning in grief after a nightmare, and all she wants to do is fight. All she wants to do is put her fists to work. All of her anxiety and pain focused on anger. But she won the fight and people cheered for her more than they booed her. She’s at the bar, already a couple of drinks in. She didn’t have a nightmare today. Today is a good day.

Except, 

it isn’t. 

And she knows it.

Deep into her bones, she knows today wasn’t a good day. Or—well, she hasn’t had a good day for a long time, really. She can't catch a fucking break, can she? All her life has been followed by a tragedy on top of another tragedy on top of another and so on. Her parent's death, Vanders death, the little trip to prison, her sister turning Jinx, knowing what she thought was the love of her life hit her. And god, it hurts. This isn't the hurting that heals. This isn't a "good" type of hurting. This is the hurting that poisons, the one that makes you want to kneel on the floor and scream until you pass out. The one that makes you feel dizzy when you think about it. The one that makes you want to drink. The want that makes you think: stop. Stops stop stop. Because it hurts. And once you do, you won't stop hurting. 

Yeah. She probably should stop drinking. 

Who's there to stop her, anyway? Well—there was Loris. Until she got too angry one night and lashed out on him. And Vi? Fuck, she's good at making people angry. She was an older sister once, she knows a thing or two about choosing the right words to hurt people, to make them mad. To make them go quiet.

When she wakes up to a hand on her cheek, she thinks she's hallucinating.

It's not the first time. It's been happening a lot, the hallucinations. It's usually when she's drunk. It makes her feel crazy every time she catches a glimpse of Caitlyn, just looking at her with that look she though was love. What she thought was love, care, belonging. And every time it happens, she's reminded of all the things it wasn't. Was it even love, in the first place? Where the secret glances, soft touches, words spoken… nothing?

Vi blinks. Caitlyn is still there. She looks so… different. That's not her Caitlyn, Vi realizes. She looks hot, like always, but she has a weird look on her face that Vi has never seen. Is she confused? Sad? It looks very tender, though. It still has that touch of intimacy Caitlyn's eyes always reflected.

"I shouldn't be here," the Caitlyn speaks, standing up. Her hand leaves Vi's face, a sense of warmth leaving her cheek. Vi head is hurting. She blinks again. Shit. The hallucination is taking its time to leave. Vi mumbles something against her pillow. er mind still foggy with sleep. "Ambessa sent me on a mission, if she finds out I'm missing she'll kill me."

The Caitlyn brings a cloth near Vi's face, but she quickly pushes it away as she sits up. That's not her Caitlyn. That can't be. But she looks so different and real and Vi just pushed her hand away and Caitlyn looks surprised. It's not a hallucination, that she knows.

Vi's first reaction is to stare at her, just wide-eyed, lips slightly parted.

Caitlyn's shoulders slump as she reaches one more time to wipe Vi's face. There's a bucket next to the bed, and the white cloth she's holding looks clean. Vi has no idea where this all came from. She lets Caitlyn, who is avoiding her gaze, wipe her face.

"So, this is what you've been up to?" Caitlyn asks, dumping the cloth now black into the water, trying to clean it. "Getting yourself killed?"

"As if you're doing so much better," VI retorts.

Caitlyn reaches out to clean Vi's face again. Her hand drops to her side after. A beat. Then, "I'm done being angry."

Vi's quick to speak, "Well, I'm not."

"Of course you're not. I'm just letting you know. I don't—" Caitlyn stops talking. She takes a deep breath, still not meeting Vi's eyes. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? For everything—"

"Sorry isn't going to cut it."

"Would you let me speak." She looks up, now eye to eye with her, finally. The cloth drops to the water. "Please, Vi."

"You don't need to apologize. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I told you, Ambessa sent me."

"So you just follow her around and do what she says?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it?!" She raises her voice. "You're completely different, Caitlyn. I'm not going to treat you the same just because you came here to… what? Check up on me? I don't even know what you're doing here. I thought I'd never—"

I thought I'd never see you again.

The words hang unspoken on the air. Vi really though she was never going to see Caitlyn again, and now she's here. Caitlyn is here, and she's taking care of Vi for some reason.

"I'm not even mad at you," Vi continues. She has the painful urge to touch Caitlyn, touch her face, put her hands on her hips, kiss her. This so she can convince herself Caitlyn is here and she's real and she hasn't left. She's glad more than she's mad, and it's pissing her off. She sits closer to Caitlyn. She doesn't deserve apologies, doesn't deserve anything that's close to good.

When Vi gets close enough to Caitlyn, when she can feel her soft breath against her face—when she thinks that another chance is so close she can feel it against her fingertips, that there can be another chance to mend amends, Caitlyn twists the knife.

"Vi?" She says, softly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm seeing someone else."

Vi pulls away, breath slightly panted. She can't speak, there are no words left to say. She's completely, utterly alone. She's so stupid for thinking she wasn't. But, again, it's always been like this. She should've seen it coming.

Caitlyn stops looking at her once more.

"Who?" It is what she manages to speak.

"Maddie."

Vi looks away from Caitlyn. She doesn't know if she wants to cry or laugh. "You said Ambessa would kill you if she finds you here, you should leave."

"You're right." Caitlyn clears her throat, standing up.

And before Caitlyn walks away, Vi decides to say one last thing.

"She's not going to love you like I do."

"What?" Caitlyn turns around, eyes on Vi like she's hoping for something that won't come—doesn't exist.

"She's not going to love you like I did. But good luck out there, cupcake."

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hiiii can I request a obanai x abused gn reader pls???

And like the reader drops a plate and is having a panic attack and he comforts us😭😭😭

Thanks

Yaaaay! A solo Obanai! I missed this man so much! Aww, this is so cute! I’ll totally do this

Iguro Obanai- Matching Problems

All Obanai heard, after returning home for a mere ten minutes, was a ceramic shatter echoing through the halls, alerting him as he quickly accelerates his walking speed to rush through the closed-in meek hallways of his massive mansion. The only other person in the cool-toned Estate was you, if you were the reason of the noise isn’t important to him. Your health and safety is

As he suspected from where he thought the source came from, he followed the shatter into the lonely cold kitchen. Where he saw nothing over the counter, you may have still been out? That could possibly suggest a demon has somehow entered his living quarters? With his guard high up, he silently sneaks around the corner of the marble counter. Obanai’s previous readiness and somewhat hostility faded with what he saw

You, his partner, rocking back and forth with light sobs and hiccups. Now, he could hear your distress and he understood all of it so well. Sympathetic and concerned, he approaches your lightly sobbing and hiccuping frame to find what’s wrong with you

You were kneeled down right behind the shattered remains of what he assumed to be one of his many snowy ceramic plates or bowls, clutching your head and breathing heavily as if you were trying to curl up and hide from the oxygen floating around. His heart broke apart at how sensitive and traumatised you are

Obanai is the same as you, two abuse survivors. He can handle his PSTD and trauma triggers a lot better than you can. You have more open panic attacks then he does and it hurts him so much. You don’t deserve to be in so much pain, and he wants to scare away every ounce of that pain with all his strength

Slowly approaching you on light footsteps, Obanai crouched down to meet your eyelevel. You were trapped in a scary panic attack, trembling and feeling a tight swell in your chest. You were terrified as memories of your abusive parents came flooding in at the sound of the plate you were going to use for your dinner, shattered on the floor. Ceramic breaking is a trauma trigger for you

Since your parents always threw ceramic items at you in fits of drunken rage, and the shatter crash always came through whilst you got injured by the item, it became a trauma trigger. Your spine chilled intensely whilst a thin layer of sweat built up over your luscious skin. Obanai didn’t really know how to comfort people, he can barely keep himself calm when up against trauma trigger-triggered panic attacks. After a few seconds of thought

Obanai wrapped his arms around you, just feeling your skin jump. You were sensitive to touch in this state, Obanai knew this well but he also knew he needed to make contact to pull you away. He needed to protect you from the trigger and do his best to make you feel safe so he can get rid of the blaring hazard on the floor to further protect you. “My love…” Obanai softly cooed, not suspecting you to actually lift your head up nor respond to him

But your body instinctively suction-cupped into his own warm frame for comfort and that feeling of safety. You couldn’t really hear him as your anxiety and fear grew stronger, drowning out background noise but you could always sense Obanai’s presence, and your loving boyfriend became associated with true safety. Smiling underneath that signature bandage-mask, Obanai used his gentle embrace against you to lift you to your feet

No. He wasn’t going to force you to walk, he holds you firm enough to keep in his arms but soft enough to not seem like a threat to your easily mendable mind. Obanai noticed the way you finally let him see your face, since it was blocked by the length of your hair and even parts of your hands. He just loved seeing your beautiful face, your gorgeous eyes. Though, right now, was not the best time but he could care less

He loved it all and he was joyous you were starting to get better already, enough to look at him willingly with zero words. It seemed he was helping a lot, dismissing the fact he hadn’t even cuddled nor kissed you properly yet

He reached the bedroom he shared with you in no time, placing you down politely on the futon you share as you felt your heart beating a bit slower than before. Sat down besides you, he held your hand as you gently turned your head to face him

“Close your eyes, my love” Obanai spoke softly and you obeyed his every word with zero hesitation, wanting more than anything for the awful pain and those awful flashes of your horrifying trauma to go away. “Breathe… deeply, gently and slowly. Through your nose”

Obanai chirped and tapped his finger on the button of your nose as a playful thing you two did together, shuffling a bit closer to your laid side and ever-so-slightly squeezing the hand he held so protectively to reassure you he isn’t going anywhere, not now or after he helps

Obanai will stay put to help subside those symptoms and put you to sleep so you can forget all about the misery you’re being forced to withstand in this very moment. He loved you so much that he was willing to stay up all day and all night to ensure you were happy again, that you would sleep peacefully again. As his one and only love, he is happy to do anything for you

[vampkittyxoxo]

Hi!!! Could you do romantic X headcanons for Lawrie and 8-BIT? If you don't accept two characters at time for headcanons you can pick which one you want! Also could the reader be a robot? For the pronouns everything is fine even if I would prefer gender neutral or fem pronouns!

So sorry if this is bad worded it's my first time requesting something and English is not my first language 😭🙏

I hope you have a wonderful day!

Hello!! Thank you for your request! I can do two characters don’t worry!

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

8-Bit with a robot partner —

~ For starters, it took a LONG time to get 8-Bit to want anything to do with you. Much less than if you were a human, but still, you really had to bide your time with him.

~ He was very reluctant to talk past any simple small talk, and his usual speaking patterns kept his replies vague and sort of mysterious, in a way.

~ If you ever get him to open up, you’re probably the first person (robot?) to ever do so. And that’s exactly why he catches feelings for you.

~ He definitely doesn’t understand his feelings at first— he thinks that since he’s an arcade cabinet, he shouldn’t feel anything romantic. But after some soul searching and self help (google) he comes to the conclusion that he does, in fact, have a crush on you.

~ Would he ever confess to you? No. Not in a million years would he ever take the risk of losing the one person that he could talk to and rely on. Thankfully, you’re willing to take that risk!

~ When you confess to him, he is bewildered. He cannot fathom that someone would like him back. It’s a miracle he didn’t blow a fuse when you told him, whether it be in person or through any other means.

~ 8-Bit is very nervous at the start of the relationship, but he tries his best. Chances are good you would be his first for everything. But with nurturing and reassurance, he quickly gets over his anxiety after the first initial month or so.

~ He tries his hardest to keep his temper cool around you, and tells you time and time again that if he gets mad, it isn’t your fault. If he ever yelled at you, he would delete all his code immediately.

~ Despite all his rage, he loves playing co-op games with you, or just watching you play a game. As small tokens of love, he’ll buy you games you like/want, dlc, even merchandise of your favorite franchises. I wouldn’t say gift giving is his love language, he just likes spoiling you from time to time.

~ Regarding physical touch, it takes him quite a while to get used to it. You would have to start small, with just hand holding, then slowly ease your way into cuddling or anything of the sort.

~ He appreciates that your also a robot, meaning you can relate more to… whatever issues robots have. This also means 8-Bit is a lot more knowledgeable on robot first aid, and should something go wrong, he can easily patch you up.

~ Overall, it’s a lengthy process, but in the end 8-Bit does love you and cares for you a lot. It might be hard for him to properly express it, but he isn’t opposed to leaving you love notes around the place for you to find.

Lawrie with a robot partner —

~ Another stubborn, angry robot.

~ It’s real hard to talk to him. Harder than it is for 8-Bit, because Lawrie already has a best friend— Larry. He doesn’t see a need to be buddy buddy with anyone else.

~ You still try, and try… and try. Making any excuse to see him, to bring him anything he likes, help him with small errands… Yet he just sees you as an acquaintance.

~ That’s not to say he doesn’t find you attractive, or a potential partner. Oh no, he’s crushing *hard*, but he is just amazing at covering it up.

~ He gets all his gushing out to Larry, who has to bear to hear it all (he loves seeing his brother so happy).

“God, and you know what they did today?!”

“Ooo what! What!!”

“They handed me a pen when I needed it!!”

“OH MY GOD LAWRIE marry them already please”

~ The longer you stick around, the more open Lawrie gets. Slowly, over the course of a month, his little crush turns into a like. A *like like*.

~ Unlike 8-Bit, Lawrie actually *will* ask you out. But very discreetly. He asks if you would stay with him for longer, just to keep him company while sorting through files and other mundane tasks. After a week of this, he’ll finally ask you out on a date, but “just as friends”…

~ Dinner dates aren’t really… applicable to robots such as yourselves. So, you opt to roam Starr Park past his shift. He offers to pay for just about everything, since he was the one to ask you out anyway (and definitely not because he likes you haha…)

~ If you touch him at all, he’ll react with annoyance, but that is most definitely not how he feels… at all.

~ After the first date, he tells Larry all about it, who then encourages Lawrie to ask you to be his partner. Lawrie is very skeptical at first, and really doubts Larry’s advice, but goes for it anyway.

~ He asks you casually whenever your around his work, hardly batting an eye on the outside. But trust me, he’s freaking out internally. When you say yes, he genuinely gets flustered and turns red (can robots blush…?). He accidentally says “thank you”.

~ In a relationship, Lawrie isn’t all that bad. He sets in place some basic boundaries for the both of you, in an almost formal meeting delivery. This is mostly just to avoid future issues.

~ Unlike his brother, Lawrie is not very touchy, especially at first. It takes him almost two weeks to ask to hold your hand, and another week to… sort of kiss you? Whatever the robot equivalent is.

~ He isn’t one to spontaneously purchase gifts for you— he keeps that for when you two go out together. Instead, he prefers doing small acts of service for you, like taking on chores (even if you don’t live together) and bringing you drinks or food while watching movies together. He gives you prince(ss) treatment.

~ The only problems I can foresee is him being too harsh or rough at times. If you two are play fighting, he might accidentally shoot a rubber band at you too hard or hurt you in some way. He honestly doesn’t mean to, and always makes sure your okay and holds you after.

~ In all, he’s a good man. Larry is so happy his brother finally found someone, because honestly… he never thought Lawrie would.

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

I hope this was good! Im not too familiar with 8-Bit but thankfully someone on reddit analyzed his personality.

Requests are open <3

[scribble-dribble-writes]

A Lingering Past

<<<Prev(The Bargain) (Sinister plot) Next>>>

Pairing: Buggy x female mermaid reader

Word count: 2000

Warnings: none

Content: Buggy loses you and it breaks him, making him remember the first night he saw you.

Y'all asked for it, here is Buggy pining and longing 🥹😭💖💖💖

---

“I would sure love to help you guys but it’s time I exit stage left.”, Buggy ran off from the chaos of the fight feeling the thrill of finally being put back together.

He had helped the Straw hat pirates more graciously than he would have liked and all that work for nothing in return too. But now that wasn’t the core issue, he scrambled through Arlong Park dodging blows or the possibilities of being lured into a fight because he only had one goal.

He had to find you. His mind relentlessly thinking of you when he was with those bickering kids, that even his incessant sea shaties or jokes weren't giving him relief.

He rubbed the base of his neck, flexed his fingers, the image of that tank you were put in flashing across his mind. For a man having become famous and fearsome all by portraying himself as a fool, his life wasn’t so light hearted or comedic.

The dread crept in, the guilt of his plans going askew and inadvertently causing you pain. He knew his plans always had the tendency to fail and yet in the end he would always profit from it. But this plan of his had failed and as he tirelessly searched for you with a fading hope that somehow he could still be victorious, to find you and get back, it only seemed more unlikely.

But his sick prickled when another image flashed in his mind. Of you in the tank having run out of oxygen because of his delay. He placed a gloved hand over his mouth as he gagged. He hadn’t eaten anything in the last day and a half. So he stopped by the open bar to compose himself when he caught sight of the glass bowl. Somehow seeing it empty only prolonged the anxiety.

He ran to it, unable to believe the new possiblity that was beginning to creep into his mind, that he had be double crossed or cheated. Or maybe in the nugget of belief he held in optimism and everything good, there was also a possibility that you could have escaped. The rise and fall of hope and despair wasn't doing him any good, he began to feel seasick while on land.

Just as he stood there, he recognized one of the henchmen from Arlong’s crew trying to sneak away, the one who was left behind to keep an eye on you. Buggy’s patience had worn out, he needed answers and so he reached out to get them, in his style.

Before the man could run, Buggy extended his arm but let loose his hand towards him. With catapulting speed, he felt his fingers reach for the man’s throat and from where Buggy stood, he willed his hand back to him dragging the henchman along within his closed fingers.

“Where’s my girl?”, his deadly stare bore into the chocking man in his grasp.

He wasn’t willing to give an answer and so his anger flared even further. Buggy rammed the man to the ground, letting his detached hands continue to construct his airways as the fish man tried to escape his hold.

"I ask you a question, I expect an answer.", Buggy gritted his teeth.

He put one foot on the man’s chest and leaned towards his face to see his unrelenting effort at keeping his mouth shut. The veins in his eyes turned red as his throat began to expand. It was now or never, he either got the clue or this man died in the process. But Buggy held on, with what hope he didn’t know.

The henchman tapped his hand on the ground as a sign that he yielded, Buggy let go, his hands snapping back to his arm as he heard the man spit out in a coarse tone.

“Her ransom was paid.”, the man coughed and it caused Buggy to spiral..

“She was never yours.”, he laughed cynically as he looked up at Buggy.

But now Buggy’s rage couldn't be bridled further. They had sold you under some pretext, the failure of his strategy had now caused him to lose the only important person in his life.

He crouched down to level his gaze with the henchman’s.

“What nonsense are you spouting now, gills?”, he sneered knowing well that the red smile on his face didn’t look funny anymore as the man groveling at his feet shifted in fear so to enhance Buggy smiled holding up his blades against his chin.

“The island of Makara had lost its princess when a coup took place twenty five years ago. A mermaid with the same resemblance as your missus.”, the man slurred his words as he held up his hands begging for mercy.

Lost princess? How had he never known?

"She's not my....", Buggy huffed. "Never mind.", he said looking away.

It changed everything. Every time he looked into your eyes, he had a feeling you were more than just what you had settled for. More than what he could offer you.

“What I find funny is that she went willingly. Maybe all she needed was something better than you for her to leave you behind without so much of a thought.”, the man chuckled.

Buggy got up, putting all his pent up frustration into a kick to the fish man’s abdomen. “The funny thing is, I don't need your insight. Stop talking like you knew her.”

“Did you?”, the man grunted and Buggy paused, all this useless talk was working it's way into his head.

The world swirled around him, all the voices in his head coming to life. Some criticising him for having lost someone as valuable as you. His mind concocting ways in which you could have been more pivotal if you held a higher social standing, all the money and information you would have been privy to. But the one that ached the most was the subdued voice of his heart telling him that he had lost you forever. Because now your life could afford you everything he couldn’t.

What had to offer besides his pathetic self?

He knew you, the true you. Would that be enough?

Would that compare to a throne and a kingdom?

Would you have been satisfied with a useless man's love as opposed to gold?

It broke him, the self hatred taking over his body in ways that made him  heart collapse. All those nights he held with fondness now ruined by thinking how your skin held an impression of him. Him! A clown of the seas while you were royalty.

With every step he took, the loneliness began to wrap around him, his heart heavy with loss and contention. He was now free to go after the One piece but why did it seem irrelevant now?

His crew, his ship, you, all lost in a matter of days when it took him years to build and find.

It was possible that wherever you were, you hated him now having learnt of what you were actually worth. Everytime you sat by next to him in his Captain’s quarters, trying to piece together the memory of the night you ended up by the cove, he would change the topic. Not because he wanted to prevent you from finding out your heritage, your true home. It was out of a more stupid selfish reason.

If he had known the truth about your past, he would have taken you back to your island himself. But the whole problem was because he could never seem to walk away from you. He balanced on a tightrope in his mind, he wanted to figure out your past but the fear from that was, if you did, you would slip away from his fingers and take with you the only comfort he had in his life, that not even his art couldn’t soothe his pain.

Everything else lost its meaning the moment he erased you from his life.

The night by the cove, as he slipped away from the loud local pub by the docks to hear of the raid that had happened in a nearby town. He had spent a fair time at sea by then, that news like these weren't as surprising. But in order to battle the numbness that he developed through the years of being part of a crew he would look out to the ocean every night, that once gave him joy.

Before he ate the devil fruit, he would frolic in the salty waters. To work off his frustration or take time for himself, to indulge in a swim. His fingers twitched even as he thought of feeling the waves brush against him, muscle memory, it was a part of him, a part of him that had died once he gained this ability of his.

So as he walked by the beach, making sure his feet didn’t touch the waves that splashed against the shore. He heard your voice then, your song, in a language he didn’t understand but his soul did, cause the pain in it was the same he carried. The dark night concealed the sharp rocks so he feared as he climbed over it carefully, afraid that one cut would cause him to turn to pieces to then be washed away.

But he persisted, the only time he worked for something because his heart craved this peace he felt as he heard your singing. All his torment seemed to vanish and that was a relief no amount of his treasures could give him.

And there you were, your long dark brown hair spread around you in the water like the wisps of black smoke that escaped from his cannon balls. Your dark eyes reflecting the clear dark sky he would wish for stars in. Your tailing catching the light as you swirled it anxiously, each scale like studded jewels he could never find in any loot. He was mesmerized as he reached his hand out to you. Not because he wanted to capture you, he wanted to know how it would be like, to touch you.

To his surprise that given his appearance, you waded closer, placing your hand softly into his when he saw your webbed fingers. He inhaled sharply, for so long he had seen ordinary people around him, his nose a hideous thing he could never get past but your fingers, the slight shimmer of scales of your skin.

You were unique and beautiful. Giving him the smallest hope that he maybe he was too, only that no one could see it.

He balanced his feet with great effort, one slip and he would drown in this lagoon. But then he saw a gnash on the side of your tail that could only be caused by a harpoon. You were driven into this rocky place in search of protection.

His heart twitched as he fear faded. You were cast aside and hunted. He held onto your hand firmly, he didn’t have a proper ship yet or a strong enough crew but he was certain of one thing. That he would protect you. He pulled you up but just as he did he watched in awe as your tail transformed into legs, your dress sticking onto your wet skin.

He held you close as he wrapped you within his coat as he let you catch your breath. You rested your head on his chest. You were a teenager just like him, your tan skin so supple he wanted to trace his finger over your cheek. But no one had sought comfort from him, ever.

So now as he watched you steady yourself with your eyes closed as you held onto him, his heart beating in sync with yours. There was nothing more precious than this in the world, his heart felt full for the first time. As his eyes traced your body he saw your wound on your calf and observed with wonder how the water sealed your scars.

The more he saw, the more he began to realize how similar you were to him. That just like him, you sealed yourself back together, over and over. He wrapped his hand around you, here in the dark hidden from every eye, he could let his defenses drop. He knew how hard it was, to always walk away as though nothing had impacted or hurt you. Although neither of your bodies retained the scars, he knew of the scars your heart always remembered.

“Let’s get you home, fishtail.”, he said softly as he carried you. Someone at the pub should know where you had to go, but until then in his arms for these few extra minutes, you were his. He had found you and so took solace in his greatest find that even the one piece could never contend with.

Now all that time he cheated himself to have with you had caught up, to take you from him forever, to forbid him from even trying to approach you. What good would it do if he stormed the gates of your kingdom?

Would you still run to his arms?

You would be queen and he, like the moniker he had chosen for himself, would be the jester.

Fate had a funny way of reminding him where he belonged and as often as he played it off to maintain his appearance as a fearsome pirate, it felt like all the forces had conspired together to play the biggest prank on him. To give him everything he wanted and then rip it away only to laugh at his face.

You had warned him against it, his foolish head stuck in the clouds, and yet he never listened. How stupid, he had let himself to believe a man like him could be blessed to have a life with a woman like you, but it wasn’t to be.

[jeyramarie]

Buzzcut- Florence Pugh x Reader

summary: You're still trying to get used to the buzzcut..

warnings: cursing, fluff, slight smut?

a/n: still not over this, i- i thought fans were delusional but they were right.. i- i mean i love it.. i love it😭 i love her forever and ever, she slays everything 🫶

ik i have disappeared, i’ve had a bit of a writing funk but hopefully this tiny fic gives me inspo to finish the rest of my work! i love y’all 🫶 happy reading 🦋

It was the night before the MET Gala. The night Flo and I were going to make our debut. The first time our relationship would see the public eye. My anxiety was raging, I was just nervous about people’s thoughts of us. People’s thoughts on my dress or my hair or just us together.

But Florence always seemed to calm me down. There was something about her that just by being next to her, my breathing calmed, and my chest would stop hurting. She just has that power over me. It was also Flo’s buzzcut debut, which was very, very interesting.

I was waiting for Flo at the hotel room as she finished her fitting for tomorrow. My gown was tailored to perfect in the morning before I had to lock myself in the room to answer many, many work emails. The door clicked opened and without turning around, I already knew it was her.

"Hey, baby, how was the fitting?" I asked before biting into my pen as I checked my grammar for the fourth time.

"It went very well." She replied, making her way towards me before she placed her hands on my shoulder. "I thought you were going to be away from the computer once I got back."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry." I whined, throwing my head back to see a pair of beautiful green eyes. "One of my doctor's sent me a very lengthy email about my nurses and I got pissed."

"What did he say?"

"Oh, just some complete bullshit." I groaned, sitting back up as Florence walked around to sit on my lap. "Saying that the things they suggest is wrong and that they shouldn't be involved in any of the things he does... it's just bullshit, truly."

"He does not seem to consider that you are a nurse as well and you're the hospital director."

"He's always been an asshole, honestly." I chuckled, rubbing my hand on her thigh as I stared up at her.

She has been rocking the shaved head for a few weeks and it has been interesting to see her explore it. I always support her in everything she does but this was one thing I was neutral about at first. I didn't really know how to react when she walked into the bedroom one night with a hairless head.

"You think people will like it?" Flo whispered.

"They will, I assure you." I nodded.

"I mean this is a whole new hair transformation, you know?" She said, rubbing her head. "The pixie cut for A Good Person was one thing but this is different."

"Well, as long as you like it, it doesn't matter what other people think." I reply, lifting her hand to peck her knuckles.

"What do you think?" She whispered, playing with my necklace.

"I love it." I said, instantly. "I do miss the hair though... I don't have anything to pull on now."

"Oh my god." Florence laughed, burying her head into my neck. "You're so cheeky."

"You loved it." I muttered and smirked, looking at her lips and back at her eyes.

"Well, you don't have anything to pull on, but you can still slap my ass..." She whispered and bit her lip as I felt my core tingling.

"Thankfully I love doing that too." I replied and she chuckled as I placed my hand at the back of her head, pulling her to me to connect our lips.

Florence moved her legs to straddle my lap as my hands traveled down her back to her ass, giving it a hard squeeze causing her to whimper into the kiss. I moved forward and stood up, moving my hands under her thighs as I quickly turned to the bed, letting her fall.

I step away, pulling my shirt off before unbuttoning Florence’s jeans to pull them down. Our lips connected once again, our tongues fighting for dominance as the both of us yearned to be in control.

People would think that the lack of hair in your female partner would be a problem but to me it wasn’t. Florence with a buzzcut definitely made me melt. Every. Single. Time.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

ok tbh…fellow readers don’t kill me but i feel like konig is still using readr for sex…or like actually doesnt love her yk…like anyone can fill that role and she is cause there’s no other woman around 😭 IDK i can’t put my finger on it

Ok, this is a tricky one and I'm glad you asked! Because... (and I also hope my readers won't kill me for this) like I said in my answer to this ask, I profiled König as a sociopath. And I can and I will put my finger on it 🫠

The following are my thoughts on the subject & antisocial pd (otherwise known as sociopathy). I hope you read about this m. disorder if it interests you, pls do not take my words as gospel! I also wish to remind that this is fiction and I'm practically ready to bend the laws of physics if I have to, to force even the most disputable, unstable and corrupt of characters give and receive love because that's just my cup of tea. 🩷

First of all, sociopaths are typically viewed to be incapable of love and empathy. They use manipulation to get what they want. Being in a relationship with a sociopath is described to feel incredible and passionate one moment, and confusing and scary the next. If you know what's good for you, you wouldn't even want to be special to a sociopath.

Sociopaths themselves often claim they do love those selected few they respect, just not in ways "normal" people regard as love. And this, I think, is where it gets interesting.

The definition of love as unconditional, sacrificial and selfless care for another person is not a sociopath's definition of love. They might care about a tiny amount of handpicked people, to some extent. For a sp, love is when they refrain from harming those few they care for. That's pretty cold, right?

Still, sociopaths are not devoid of emotion even if the most common emotion they feel is rage. They are not narcissists even if they are manipulative, emotionally cold, and act entitled at times. There seems to be dispute over whether sociopaths feel empathy or not (psychos don't, they simply can't because of an impaired mirror neuron system). Their defense mechanisms consist of manipulation, extreme detachment and extreme impulsivity; it's been their only way to survive in a disorganized, unloving and unstable environment.

König is someone who has been neglected and abused, who has never been shown what love even means. Everything has been conditional. He's lived in constant fear and anxiety; he has never had a loving or a stable father, his mother practically denied the abuse he had to suffer by not intervening, he has never had any friends (like he says himself in ch. 1), has only ever received attention through fear and disgust. The only dream he had in this life, the only possible redemption arc, so to say, went to shit.

It's not anyone's job to fix this kid, sure. But when, from where, or from who would he have learned to love?

When reader comes along, she shows kindness to him, forgives his trespassings over and over again, and chooses to trust in him even when afraid. If we only talk in terms of sociopaths/manipulators and their victims, then yes, this is a horrible setting, because it is the perfect setting for abuse.

And it's true: there is no one else around. All the yearning and thirst and starvation is immediately projected onto the first and only person who finally shows him some kindness, even after all his drastic shortcomings. So she isn't "special". But in a way, she's more than special: she's world shiftingly, groundbreakingly special 😐

What we know is this: König asks if he is harassing her and if she wants him to stop. He vows multiple times he would never hurt her. He assaults someone who, in his mind, mistreats her (and who reminds him of a person who mistreated him and his mother when he was a kid), leaves reader eventually alone when she shows signs of not forgiving him/wanting him in her life anymore.

These are all toxic breadcrumbs, and this whole setting is unhealthy and problematic. A sane and cynical person would say that this is manipulative and abusive. A sensitive, overly compassionate person might say this is a sociopath's only way to love.

Reader may not have been special when she first came into König's life. He saw her as a plaything first, but can you blame a touch-starved man for trying to get some intimacy? König doesn't trust anyone, doesn't know how to give or get comfort other than through sex, so of course he would opt for sex first. (Also, let's be real: who would suffer this kind of man if he wasn't so hot? No one, for goodness sakes)

The connection that blooms afterwards, I imagined and wrote as real, no matter what or who he is (because I'm a naive romantic at heart 🥰). He's not a green flag man by any means, but he's trying his best (which will never be enough). Had I wrote him a psychopath, the story would have been way more darker, and even the minimum amount of empathy and true love that is, at times, present in this fic, would not have been there at all.

König also sacrifices himself for reader at the end of the last chapter. A through-and-through sociopath would not perhaps deem it in their best interest to go that far, even if the "gains" were abundant (reader's deepening attachment and eternal gratitude). This is why this particular scene is important, because it poses the question: is he really a sociopath? Why would he do this? Because at this point, reader is indeed very goddamn special :D

I'd also like to entertain the question: how special is König to reader? I mean, don't we all just want to take these broken men like Ghost and König home and "cure" their sadness by giving them some— ahem, *gunshots*, this was a little off topic, but you get the idea. Savior complex is real, too!

If König is ever diagnosed with APD, reader would probably educate herself and find that sociopaths cannot love, and they cannot change because there is no cure: the damage is already done. These people will only use and abuse those who don't get out of the relationship. She would also find that there are sociopaths who are still in touch with their families, who have kids and partners and who have learned to "behave" for the sake of their loved ones. Either because they actually care or because it serves their interests (of being loved? Don't we all want to be loved?).

Again, this is fiction. I don't wish to justify this character's actions nor condone this kind of abusive behavior (should go without saying but perhaps it's best to state it at least sometimes to be clear ❤️). Nor do I want to condemn the reader for having feelings and empathy for this big, abused wreck. And the reason why I can't give you a clear answer on this is because there is none :')

If you people have thoughts on this, something you wish to share, I would love to hear and chat and just…*pls* this is such an interesting topic! Don't be shy 🩷🤗

(Also pls don't kill me)

[bugdotpng]

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE

bear with me here this is going to be a lot of medical oversharing but i might have just connected a bunch of symptoms/ailments

i was diagnosed with PMDD when i was 16, and it’s been a bitch to get under control since then. my physiological symptoms were tamed in high school but my mood issues have persisted throughout adulthood, to the point they were making me sewer side all. spelled that way bc im fine dont worry abt me i know when it’s The PMDD. recently read an article that a potential cause of pmdd is an over production of histamines. interesting.

a few years ago i kept having hives break out on my face so i went to an allergist to get an allergy test (ive always had sensitive skin, minor eczema, so i thought it was a soap or detergent) only to leave with no allergies and a “dermographic urticaria” diagnosis, which he explained as me having an overproduction of histamines on the outer layer of skin, and when my skin breaks, the histamines go inside and makes hives. interesting. he gave me hydroxyzine which (and this is important) generally helped with my hives but also had the best added effect of tamping down my raging bouts of anxiety. which i’ve read can be a side effect of the over production of histamines. interesting.

around that time i also visited an EMT because i had a chronic, dry unproductive cough and was waking up with coughing fits and nearly throwing up in the middle of the night. here i was thinking it was like…long covid or something, and i leave with a “silent acid reflux” diagnosis (different than regular acid reflux, which i also had) which is IMMEDIATELY made better by avoiding acidic/spicy foods, etc and sleeping on my left side. supposedly, histamine intolerances play a role in fucking up the acid production in your gut. interesting.

fast forward to a year or so ago and i find a gi doctor because shit was bad (pun intended) and i got diagnosed with ibs; i was advised to avoid dairy and other “inflammatory” foods and of course, when i did i felt so much better. most of the foods that trigger my ibs are my favorite foods so i still eat them but i do generally try to use dairy substitutes etc. i just can’t give up cheese my beloved 😭 and ibs is—have you caught on yet—exacerbated by an overproduction of histamines.

so now i have this collection of relatively comorbid diagnoses (ibs, pmdd, hives/allergies, silent reflux, and even anxiety and adhd) and it seems that an overproduction of histamines is a potential cause/exacerbator of all of these ailments. and if im understanding everything im reading correctly…DOES THIS MEAN IVE BEEN SUFFERING FOR 30 YEARS, AND TAKING PEPCID—AN H2 BLOCKER—WOULD HAVE FUCKING FIXED EVERYTHING

stay tuned to find out i suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i’m definitely still Not Well in a lot of these regards so id like to see if it’s effective at all. and by Not Well i mean still “having symptoms”. all these ailments are generally mild all things considered but enough for me to notice obviously. i’ll see if i can go get some tomorrow. i’m also going to look into a list of high-histamine foods to avoid. perhaps 2025 is the year i start being a bit kinder to this wretched mortal shell. if you’ve read this far and have any thoughts id love to hear em. this post is brought to you by me sitting upright in bed because my silent reflux is killing me goodnight

[thiccpettybitch]

Sweet Sorrow - Ch. 1 Miguel O’hara x F!Reader

Phew, alright, I have to admit, this chapter was a bit of a struggle to write. My self-doubt and anxieties are having a go at me, and I can't help but feel like I rushed it a little. But you know what? I'd rather get it out there than keep overthinking it until I can quote it word for word.

I know it might be a bit confusing or jumbled right now, but I promise it'll get easier to understand as the story unfolds. There are so many good moments planned that I can't wait to share with you 😭

Today's been a self-doubt day for me, but hey, it happens. Now, let's talk about Sweet Sorrow, the spin-off of my baby Bitter Sweet. I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think about it. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

Also, I want to take a moment to say thank you so much for all the support. We've reached over 1000 likes and over 100 reblogs, and I'm incredibly grateful for every single one. Your likes, questions, comments, and asks truly make my day brighter. I can't say it enough – thank you all from the bottom of my heart!💖

(I’ve also gotten all your asks so don’t worry! Once the next chapter of Bitter Sweet is out, i will begin slowly releasing them as well! ty again, ilu all!)

Now, I'm going to take a deep breath and keep pushing forward with the story. With your support, I know I can make it even better, and I'm excited to see where this journey takes us.

Part 2

As you find yourself hurtling towards an inevitable end, you gaze upward, and there is Miguel, falling with you. His hand reaches out with desperate hope, as if trying to bridge the impossible distance between you. Despite his bloodied and battered state, he grits his teeth, calling out for you with a heart-wrenching cry. You don’t have the strength to call out for him, tears well up in your eyes, suspended in the air like tiny, glistening droplets, as you continue to fall.

You know he won't be able to catch you; the fall is too fast, the distance too great. However perhaps selfishly so, you still use the last of your strength to call out for him, begging him to save you.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the Green Goblin appears, swooping in on his glider. He crashes into Miguel's side, sending him careening into another building. You close your eyes letting out another sob as you watch The Green Goblin looks down at you, his face twisted with malevolence. He gives you a small, taunting wave, relishing, before setting his sights on Spiderman, on Miguel.

Will it hurt?

As you plummet, the inevitable ground approaches, and you can't help but think that this is it. In a final desperate act, you call out Miguel's name, as if it's your way of making a lasting impact on the world. The prospect of death might be beyond your control, but no one can take away the memories of his name, his face, his smile, his touch, and his love. They will be the last thoughts in your mind before you touch the ground. Before you die.

With a loud gasp, the back of your jacket unexpectedly snags on a flag post, suspending you high above the ground. As you look down, the world spins around you, making your head swirl with dizziness. Panic takes hold, and you cry out in a desperate attempt to free yourself. The flagpole protests with creaks, and you find yourself trapped, unable to move without facing a deadly plunge. It's as if fate is playing one last cruel joke on you, leaving you helplessly suspended, caught between life and death.

---

Miguel's expression contorted with pain as the glider collided with him, forcing the air from his lungs in a pained grunt. Amidst the chaos, Osborn's sinister laughter echoed in his ears, fueling his determination. He mustered every ounce of strength, pushing himself up, his talons digging into the glider's metal.

‘’Miguel--!!’’

Rage and panic surged through him, driving Miguel to lash out. With a fierce punch, he thrust his hand through the metal, causing cables and sparks to fly, but he paid no mind to the chaos around him. Osborn cursed and fought back, trying to halt his advance. Fingers closed around Miguel's mask, but he didn't care anymore, not even as the mask was yanked off, and their eyes met. A roar escaped his lips as he smacked Osborn in the face, the broken glider sending the villain flying into a nearby building.

Despite his aching body, Miguel webbed onto two buildings simultaneously, propelling himself forward through the air. He ignored the pain, focused only on reaching his destination. Landing on the roof of the building where you had fallen, he scrambled up on all fours, rushing to the edge. Before he could react, a blinding light burst through the air, and he collided with a solid mass, sending him falling backward.

Looking up, Miguel froze in astonishment. Before him stood a large, futuristic-looking Spiderman, his face concealed behind a mask, yet the intensity of his gaze felt palpable. It was as if he was scrutinizing Miguel's very soul. But the urgency in your cry brought him back to the present. Determined to reach you, he rose to his feet, ready to dash over, only to be halted by the other Spiderman's outstretched hand, signaling him to stop.

"Don't kid," the man's voice resonated with a deep yet strangely familiar tone.

"What- ¡Bastardo! ¡Fuera de mi camino!" Miguel practically spat, his frustration boiling over as he tried to move past the other Spiderman. But his defiance was met with an iron grip on his suit, forcing him back to the ground with a powerful slam. Despite his own strength, Miguel found himself overpowered as the other Spiderman held him down effortlessly with just one arm.

Rage surged through him as he yelled in frustration, attempting to push the man off, but to no avail. The other Spiderman responded by slamming him back down, now using both arms to maintain control. Their faces were inches apart, and the intensity of the moment was almost suffocating.

"Listen to me!" the other Spiderman growled; his voice urgent. "I can save her! But you have to listen to me; I don't have much time!"

Miguel's eyes locked onto the stranger's face, wide with unfiltered rage. Their attention was momentarily drawn to the ledge by the sound of a creaking pole and your desperate cries.

"Hijo de puta! Get off me, I’ll rip your head off!" Miguel yelled in frustration, but his defiance only resulted in another punishing slam into the roof, leaving him gasping for breath.

As if by some futuristic mechanism, the man's mask suddenly dissolved before Miguel's eyes, leaving his face fully exposed in an instant. He froze, staring up in pure shock.

"Yeah well, good luck with that, kid," Miguel looked up at the older version of himself, utterly speechless and shocked.

"¡Escúchame!" The older man's voice echoed with intensity, his crimson eyes locking fiercely with Miguel's brown ones.

"Even if you save her now, she'll be in danger again, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow, maybe next shocking week. It doesn't matter! She'll keep facing death over and over!" Miguel shook his head, about to protest, but he was forcefully pushed back against the roof, the pain shooting through him.

"SHUT UP!" the older version of himself shouted, cutting off any further objections.

"She is destined to die! Because of you! Because of who you are, because of who WE are! But I can save her… I can save her life, you understand?’’ Miguel gazed up at the man, still in shock and pain, his eyes glazing over as he looked toward the ledge of the building.

"I can save her. But she can never see you again. She will be safe with me; she can have a life with me, but only if I take her with me. You have to let her go." The older version of himself pressed him down before rising and leaning over Miguel, hovering just above him, his finger pointing directly at his face.

"You go over there now, you save her?" He pointed towards the edge. "She dies. And there is NOTHING I can do about it. You have to make a choice, right now." Miguel swallowed hard, his eyes glossing over as he looked at the ledge and then back at the older version of himself.

"I…" Miguel hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

"CHOOSE, NOW!" The older Miguel barked, his teeth showing in a fierce display of impatience.

"I… Save her! I love-" Miguel's voice trembled as he looked up at the older version of himself. To his surprise, the man's expression softened slightly. In that fleeting moment, they shared a connection. Miguel blinked, and just like that, the mask formed back over the older man's face, concealing his emotions once more. He stood tall, turning away from Miguel, leaving him sitting there.

"I'll keep her safe. Tienes mi palabra," the man said, glancing briefly over his shoulder before leaping off the side of the building.

Miguel remained sitting there, a mixture of relief and sorrow flooding through him. He watched as bright lights illuminated the scene, listening to your desperate calls for him. His entire body went rigid. He dashed up, rushing to the side, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of the portal closing, taking you away with it. You were gone, leaving him standing there alone, his fists trembling at his sides. The distant sounds of the city were drowned out by the deafening sound of his heart hammering in his ears.

---

The flagpole keeps creaking, and panic engulfs you as you frantically search for anything to hold onto, causing you to swing back and forth in desperation. With every creak, the pole bends a little more, making your heart race even faster. You stretch upward, trying to grasp onto it as it starts bending downwards.

Your hands wrap around the pole, but you feel yourself slipping, and in desperation, you cry out for Miguel, for anyone, to come and save you. The bolts that attach the flagpole to the wall begin to move as your weight puts strain on the weak fastenings, threatening to give way.

In a terrifying moment, the small flagpole is pulled out of the loosening bolts, and you scream as it drops, together with you.

Suddenly, a figure casts a shadow above you, and you look up just in time to witness another Spiderman's arrival. His talons dig into the wall as he slides down, causing it to crack apart. In a swift move, he snatches the collar of your shirt, catching you, and with incredible strength, he pulls you up and holds you with one arm. For a moment, you stare at each other, shocked and slightly bloodied you stare up at the eyes of his mask slowly narrowing, as if he waited for something to happen.

But before you can comprehend what's happening, the man throws you through a portal, and you scream out for Miguel, your voice echoing in desperation. He follows right behind you, and the world around you shifts drastically.

The surroundings are strange, uncanny, and constantly morphing into different shapes, colors, and constructs. It feels as if you're floating in space, yet there's a sense of movement, as if the world around you is shifting and transforming. Shapes, sounds, and colors blend together, creating an otherworldly experience. It's as if you've entered a realm where time, space, and reality intertwine, leaving you in a state of awe and bewilderment.

Suddenly, the man reappears, the other Spiderman, leaping towards you with a trademark Spiderman leap. Panic grips you as you scramble to escape. Whoever this guy was, whether he wore a Spiderman suit or not, he wasn’t Miguel.

You flail your arms and legs, akin to a dog attempting to swim for the first time. However, before you can fully comprehend what's happening, a hand snatches you up and propels you towards yet another bright light. Your body is flung through the portal, leaving you disoriented and landing on your front in a large and dimly lit room.

Slowly, you push yourself up on your arms, whispering a quiet, pained "ow..." The realization of the situation dawns on you, and your eyes shoot open. Flipping over onto your back, you begin to crawl backward, putting distance between yourself and the man who is stepping toward you.

Every muscle in your body tenses with fear and uncertainty. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest as you try to make sense of where you are and what's happening. The dim light in the room casts eerie shadows, adding to the surreal atmosphere. You don't know who this man is or what he wants, and your instincts urge you to keep your distance.

"Lyla!" His voice startled you, and as you turned around, a cheerful yellow hologram of a woman materialized on the man's shoulder.

[Oh, hey Boss~ How’d it go- Oh…]

Suddenly the hologram playfully teleported in front of you. Instinctively, you scooted back, keeping both of them at arm's length. The hologram, Lyla, flickered momentarily before returning to the man's shoulder.

"Check her vitals and bring up the statistics from her dimension," he says, drawing a circle with his hand to encompass all of you. As he walks past, you scramble away, realizing that he doesn't seem interested in you. Making his way over to some monitors, he starts typing something in.

[Got it]

The hologram nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders as a bright yellow light shines over you, seemingly scanning your body. You instinctively move away, flinching as the light flicks from one side of you to the other.

[Elevated heart rate; 123 bpm. The respiratory rate is increased, steady at 15. Without a thorough check-up, I can't provide precise statistics. However, based on a quick review, she shows possible signs of anxiousness and confusion, and she might be somewhat disoriented. Additionally, she could be showing signs of paleness, which might indicate a drop in her blood pressure, although that could also be due to a lack of sun exposure... sorry to call you out, y/n]

"Lyla..." The man's voice carried a cautious tone as he swiftly typed on a hologram keyboard, summoning screens before him.

[The canon is stable, no disruptions or anomalies detected.] The hologram swiftly flicked around and settled in front of you, making you flinch involuntarily.

[I'm so excited to have you here! I mean, hiiiii! My name is Lyla! I have so many questions for you~ By the way, is that your natural hair color? Because-] Lyla's bubbly introduction is interrupted as you ask, your hands trembling slightly.

"How do you know my name…?" you inquire, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease.

Lyla flicks, and in an instant, her back is turned towards you, now facing Miguel with her hands on her hips. Then she flicks again and reappears in front of him.

[You didn't tell her?] she asks Miguel, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Haven't really had the chance to yet," he snapped at her, clearly annoyed, as he finished whatever he was doing on the monitors. Finally, he turned around to face you.

The man walked over towards you, and fearfully, you scrambled backward. He stopped, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender, and let out a tired sigh. "I won't hurt you," he reassured you. Despite his words, you still flinched and moved back even more as he takes another step towards you.

"You have my word; you are safe here. I just need to give you this," he said, holding up what seemed like a futuristic watch.

As he moves forward and you flinch back once again, your back pressed against the wall, he lets out a frustrated sound. Suddenly, he leaps at you and snatches your wrist, causing you to cry out and instinctively smack your closed fist against his chest.

"Stop! Wait! Just—just hold still!" You try to pull away from him as he tris to calm you down, his grip tight as he tries to hold you in place.

"No, stop moving, I'm—stop," he says wearily, trying to get you to calm down.

"No! Let go of me! HELP ME, SOMEONE, PLEASE!" Panic surges through you, and your body is on high alert as you thrash around in his grip, your eyes darting around the room for someone, anyone.

He snatches both of your wrists, trying to hold you still, but your panic escalates into a full-blown panic attack. You pull, hit, and kick him, desperately trying to pry your hands away and get away from him.

"Just—STOP!" The man finally says, grabbing the bottom of your face and forcing you to look up at him. You resist at first, attempting to break free from his grip, until you finally open your eyes and freeze. As you watch, the Spider-Man mask covering his face dissolves away, revealing his face.

The man standing in front of you was a spitting image of Miguel, a bit older, with a few more wrinkles likely from frowning and stress rather than actual age, you would have guessed. He stared down at you, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Shocked and unable to move, you could only stand there, gazing up at him.

He took the opportunity to snap the bracelet onto your wrist. It wasn't tight, but it felt secure enough that it wouldn't easily come off. You didn't even notice, too absorbed in staring at his face.

Finally, Miguel, older Miguel, let go of you and straightened up, his gaze turned away with a noticeable frown on his face.

"Who..." you asked, your eyebrows tightly together as you took in his appearance.

"My name is Miguel O'Hara. I lead an elite strike force dedicated to the security of the multiverse-" he began explaining.

"What- no," you interrupted, taking a step back and shaking your head, a look of confusion and disapproval on your face, "I know Miguel, you—you're not my—"

"I am Miguel, but not your Miguel, I am from another dimension," he clarified, attempting to make sense of the situation.

[This dimension, to be more specific], Lyla chimed in, appearing hovering above his shoulder, seemingly nonchalant.

You shook your head slowly, your lip trembling as you glanced down at the floor, trying to process what you had just been told. You closed your eyes tightly, attempting to stop the swirling emotions from overwhelming you. It was as if by not agreeing and not wanting it to be true, you hoped somehow to fix the situation.

"I don't—I don't know you. I want to go back; I need to make sure Miguel—MY Miguel is okay!" You push past him and walk over to where the portal had been, running your hands over the surface of the wall, searching for some sort of button or switch.

"You can't go back," he says firmly.

"What?" you ask, turning around to face him. "What do you mean 'can't'? You brought me here, so you can take me back!" you protest.

"You," he sighed, glancing around the room, searching for the right words before finally closing his eyes in defeat. He looked at you with a serious expression, "You were supposed to die tonight, but I managed to find a way around it. However, for that to happen and for you to survive, you can't.... you can't go back. I'm sorry."

"You're lying... I survived! I've been in dangerous situations before! I—this was no different, I got saved—" you protested, your emotions running high.

"You got saved by ME; I interfered. Without it, you would have been killed," he explained, his hands now on his hips as he walked over to you slowly.

"In our worlds... as Miguel and y/n, we are the equivalent of a Spiderman," he pointed at his own chest and then gestured to yours, "and a Gwen Stacy."

You frowned, looking at his hand, and he let out a quiet sigh. "It's a messed up 'never meant to be' canon event that is unavoidable, trust me – I have tried. As soon as versions of us meet, it starts."

"What starts?" you asked, feeling confused.

"A canon event, something that can't be avoided without the risk of total and complete destruction of that dimension," he responded matter-of-factly.

You let out a bitter laugh. "You're kidding me, right? You want me to believe that an entire dimension, world, universe—whatever—would collapse just because versions of us start dating?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked, taking a step towards you, his voice low and dangerous as he towered over you. "In every universe, versions of us date, and you, almost every version of you, die. That's your story."

Miguel leaned back, looking down at you with disdain. "Or, if you're lucky, I'm the one who dies. Either way, that's our story, our fate. If anything, or anyone, breaks that cycle, THAT then threatens that dimension's safety."

"Why?!" Your voice broke, and a mixture of anger and sadness welled up inside you, tears building up in your eyes.

He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because it's a canon event! And canon events cannot be broken without the risk of complete multidimensional collapse."

Everything he said sounded so foreign to you, yet strangely believable. The sincerity in his voice and the evidence you had witnessed so far led you to believe him. He didn't come across as a man who would lie. But believing his words didn't mean you had to accept them.

Your hands felt clammy, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. A headache began to pulse in your temples, and as you looked up, the room seemed to spin around you, leaving you feeling dizzy and disoriented. This couldn't be happening... this couldn't be real.

"I-I want to go back. Take me back..." you desperately say, your words a mix of a plea and demand.

"I can't do that," he responds, his hands on his hips.

"Let me go back!" you cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"I can't do that," he responds again, avoiding your gaze, a heavy weight in his voice.

You feel yourself heat up, anger and panic mixing into a dangerous and unfamiliar mess inside you, threatening to erupt. Suddenly, a door next to you opens, revealing two people dressed in Spiderman suits—one wearing a blue vest, and the other clad in a fully black suit with white marks.

"Take her to my quarters, let her lay down and rest until I find a place for her to stay," Miguel mumbles, tiredly rubbing his eyes with one hand as he turns around to leave.

"Don't touch me... I’m not going anywhere!" you warn, your voice firm

Miguel stops and his head whips around as he looks down at you, his eyebrows raised. The unspoken question, dare, hung heavily in the air.

Is that so?

---

You thrashed around, your fists smacking into his bulky back as he had you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Curses and threats spilled from you, but he remained nonchalant, walking ahead with a frown on his face. Your yelling caught the attention of people around you, and as you looked up, you realized that everyone was wearing different kinds of suits, all with some sort of Spider symbol or design.

After an awkwardly long elevator ride, during which you had tired yourself out with all your kicking and thrashing, you heard the ding as the elevator doors opened. Stepping outside, he carried you until he ended up in front of a pair of doors. He dropped you on your feet and you opened your mouth about to curse him out when he spun you around and pushed you inside.

"You—YOU! You can't just... I HAVE RIGHTS!" you shouted in frustration and anger.

"Oh? Great, oh wow" he responded sarcastically, barely letting you get your words out.

"AND YOU CAN'T JUST, JUST TAKE ME AND—" you continued to vent your anger.

"Uh huh, uh huh," he nodded, his hands on his hips, watching you storm over towards him with a mocking smile on his face.

The doors closed abruptly in your face, and you stopped, your eyes wide with pure shock. For a moment, you were left speechless, trying to process what had just happened, your eye twitching in annoyance.

And then? Then you began breaking stuff.

You were yelling a mixture of gibberish and curses, you had been smacking your hand against the metal sliding doors for what felt like hours, kicking at them, and demanding to be let out. When that didn’t work you began trashing the place, kicking chairs out of your way, smacking over books and bowls and- well… the place wasn’t really decorated much. Until finally you were left pacing back and forth, a pillow held tightly in your hands, it was the only thing around not yet on the floor.

You finally stopped, backing up to take in your surrounding and the state of the room, as your back hit the wall, you slowly came to a stop, dropping the pillow you had been holding. It wasn't much of a weapon, but in that moment, you didn't really care; your mind was not thinking straight.

Your eyes shifted around the room, taking in the destruction you had unintentionally caused. Finally, you slumped back, feeling your body slide down against the wall until you landed softly on the floor. You pulled your knees up against your chest and wrapped your arms around them hiding your face.

In your mind, this felt like a terrible nightmare you desperately wanted to wake up from. You yearned to open your eyes and find yourself back in the safety of your bedroom, with sunlight streaming through the blinds. The comforting routine of having breakfast with your aunt and uncle, followed by a trip to school to meet your friends and, of course, Miguel. It filled your heart with a sense of normalcy you sorely missed.

Your chest felt so tight for a moment that you thought you might be having a heart attack, but it was more likely a panic attack taking hold of you. The knot in your stomach tightened, and the silence around you only amplified your distress. It felt as if the world was closing in, leaving you struggling for breath and unable to think straight.

You desperately needed to wake up. This had to be nothing more than a terrible nightmare. Lifting your tear-stained face from your arms, you took in the surroundings of the room, hoping to find some semblance of familiarity. It was a small, cramped space with a kitchen area, a bedroom, a compact living area with a large desk, and finally, a door that you presumed led to the bathroom. At first glance, it didn't look like a jail cell, but then why did it feel as though invisible metal bars were closing in around you?

Your eyes shifted to your wrist, and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself. The braided bracelet encircling it suddenly felt so heavy, like a weight pulling you down. Your chin trembled, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you began to weep, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against the bracelet.

After what felt like hours of crying, you noticed a bright yellow light shined down on you. Looking up, you watched as Lyla materialized in front of you, silently observing you.

[Miguel has instructed me to give you a quick tour of his quarters. Would you... like me to show you around?]

If you had to guess, you would probably say she's some kind of AI; thus, who knows if she could feel sympathy or even understand what you were going through. Running the back of your hands over your eyes, you wiped away some of the tears, but you were still unable to get your breathing under control.

[Is there anything I can help you with? I could pull up a few breathing exercises or calming videos of puppies if you would like?]

You eyed her for a moment, contemplating whether she was being genuine or making fun of you. Based on the tone of her voice and the hologram itself, Lyla seemed to be at least trying to comfort you.

[I have to admit... I'm not really good at this. It's not as if Miguel possesses a wide range of emotions.]

"What time is it?" You asked, choosing to ignore her attempt at small talk.

[It's approximately six PM.]

"Why is it so dark in here?"

[Miguel prefers it that way. In his work station and quarters, you'll find the lighting is usually kept dim.]

You glance around the room and realize that one of the reasons it feels like a glorified prison cell is the lack of a window.

"Does he hate windows too?" you ask bitterly.

[No. However, I was instructed not to open it due to...] She trails off, nervously flickering her gaze around the room.

"Due to what?" you press, narrowing your eyes as you slowly stand.

[There are napkins in the third drawer of his desk, please help yourself,] she said, smoothly changing the subject.

Silently, you walked over to the desk, your gaze fixated on the drawers. You made a mental note to check them all out later, when you weren't being watched. You pulled on the drawer, and there, on top of some files, you found the box of napkins. You consciously ignored the box of lotion that lay behind it.

"Terrific..." you muttered to yourself, feeling slightly frustrated.

"Why can't you open a window?" you demanded.

[I am fully capable of opening a window, it's—] Lyla began to explain.

"Why were you instructed not to, then?" you interrupted, your upper lip twitching in annoyance.

Lyla fell quiet, flickering around until she reappeared in front of you on the desk. You wiped your nose and some tears off your face, feeling a mix of emotions. Suddenly, a noise on the far wall caught your attention. You looked over and watched as some blinds, which had been impossible to spot in the dark, cracked open, allowing a stream of light to finally shine in.

[Ooh, WOW! Haha! Look at this place! You ripped it apart! That's so funny, Miguel is gonna lose his mind,] she exclaimed.

"Is he violent?" you ask, making your way towards the window.

[What? Of course not! Well, if you're wondering if you have anything to fear, then no,] she assures you.

"Oh good, I'm glad my kidnapper doesn't have violent tendencies," you retort. There was a time when you might have felt guilty about your attitude, but after everything that had happened, you couldn't care less.

[Would you like me to put on some music? I know what you like! I have a few playlists saved based on your—] she begins to suggest.

"How high up are we? Are you able to remove the blinds completely?" you inquire, glancing out the window as you test the strength of the metal blinds.

[y/n... Even if I opened those blinds, and even if you weren't several hundred feet above the ground (I do not have permission to disclose HQ information with you), and you could get out...] Lyla flicked to your side, her avatar looking at you with sympathetic eyes, or as close to it as she could manage.

[You're not in your own dimension. You're not even really in your own timeline; you're about an average human's lifetime ahead of your own timeline. Even if I let you out... you'd have nowhere to go], she gently explained, delivering the disheartening truth.

As the blinds peeled back loudly, the entire window was revealed, causing you to flinch instinctively. You turned your head quickly to see Miguel, the other Miguel, leaning against the doorframe with his hand sliding off a button.

Glancing outside, you watched the city before you, and the knot in your stomach grew. Everything looked futuristic, with cars soaring down below and buildings towering even taller than those back home.

Home...

The only thing that looked remotely similar to home were the large, over-the-top billboards littering the city. You were too high up to actually see the people walking down below, which did prove that Lyla hadn't been lying.

Lyla flicked over to Miguel, hovering above his shoulder, engaged in a quiet conversation with him. As you turned towards them, the growing tightness in your chest returned. Slowly, you walked away from the window, positioning yourself on the opposite side of him—more importantly, the opposite side of the door. Miguel casually observed you, and for the first time since you had seen his face, he wasn't frowning. You glanced at the open doorway behind him and then back at him, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible.

"Don't..." He casually warned, staring down at you.

Turning around, you began walking towards the kitchen, attempting to feign hunger by casually sliding your hand over your stomach. But as soon as you were near the door, your only plan was to get the hell out of there and away from him.

With a swift move, you tried to slip past him, but he reacted lightning-fast, grabbing your wrist and hoisting you up in the air. He forcefully pulled you backwards, leaving your toes barely touching the floor, before throwing you onto his couch.

"Enough already—" Miguel started to say, but he had to stop himself as you made another desperate attempt to dash past him. He pushed you down against the couch, one hand on your chest.

"Let me out of here! Send me home!" you hissed, trying to push him away, but his grip was firm.

"YOU ARE AN ANOMALY! If you go back there, your whole dimension will disappear, together with everything in it! Everyone you know, your friends, family, loved ones—everyone will die," Miguel explained, his hand keeping you in place as you stared up at him, breathing heavily, and eventually slumping back against the couch.

You didn't have the energy to question him further. You smacked his hand away from you, sitting up and leaning forward. Your arms rested on your knees, and you covered your face with your hands. The amount of information from unreliable sources was overwhelming, making your head spin and your stomach churn.

You fell backwards against the couch, silently staring out the window. For a brief, beautiful moment, your brain seemed to take pity on you and dissociated from reality, allowing you to watch the sun finally set and the darkness of the night slowly taking over. While Miguel occupied himself with some paperwork, speaking into his bracelet, and moving about his quarters, he eventually settled down across from you on the couch.

As you continued to gaze out the window, he watched you intently, about to say something when you interrupted him. "Is Miguel safe—my Miguel?"

He nodded silently, and you closed your eyes, letting out a breath. "I... I won't ever see him again, will I?" you asked, your eyes welling up with tears as you looked over at him.

"No," he answered quietly.

Closing your eyes, you felt tears streak down each cheek. "Why is this happening? Why—" you began, feeling overwhelmed with emotions.

Miguel sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silence, he looked up at the spot above your head before his gaze settled on you, making it appear as though he almost looked down at you as he spoke.

"Every Spider-person's life is connected, woven together in this... beautiful web of life and destiny. It's called the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse," Miguel explained.

As you blinked in bewilderment, a look of pure confusion crossed your face. Miguel, looking annoyed, glanced away before sighing.

"Or... The Spiderverse, if that makes it easier," he muttered. "It's easier if we just—Ugh. Lyla, do the thing!"

[Huh? What thing?]

Miguel's stoic expression melted into one of confusion and borderline bewilderment. He shook his head, clearly perplexed, and turned to glance at Lyla, ‘’What- What do you mean ‘what thing?’ The information, explainy thing!’’

[Oh, okay!] Lyla responded.

As the blinds fall over the window again, you jump in your seat, and suddenly the room transforms from pitch black to a display of red laser-like shapes forming in front of you. The shapes resemble hundreds, if not thousands, of small webs, all interconnected. Each one takes the form of a small heptagon with tiny images inside, depicting various events. However, the images are too small to make out clearly, and Miguel mumbles something about it being easier to show in the "big room."

You lean forward, engrossed in his explanation. "These nodes," he points them out for you, "they're where the lines converge; they are the canon. Chapters that are a part of every Spider's story, every time." You watch as Miguel leans forward, his eyes shifting from one node to another as he speaks.

"Some good..." He looks over at another node. "Some bad..."

"Some very bad." He stops at the node in front of you, his gaze shifting up to meet yours.

"That's how the story's supposed to go. The canon events are the connections that bind our lives together," Miguel said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you. "But those connections can be broken. That's why anomalies..." He looked away from you, his expression turning bitter, "are so dangerous."

"In universes where versions of us meet and become... close, our relationship becomes a canon event, an event that always has and always will end with one of us dying. You weren't supposed to survive in your universe," he explained solemnly.

"Do I always... die at the same time?" you ask, your voice tinged with sadness and confusion.

"No. Sometimes you... we—" Miguel hesitates, searching for the right words, "Versions of us begin lives together. Some get married, some have children, and some... some die before even making it as far as you did," he says, bitterness evident in his voice.

"And now, because that story has changed, you have become an anomaly. Which means that if you return, your dimension will begin unraveling. And there is no stopping that," Miguel explains, his tone somber and resigned.

"What..." you say, distraught.

"It's what happens when you break the canon,"

"Then why... why am I alive? Why did you save me?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I... I found a way—a way to save you," he responds, his expression serious, but a hint of melancholic determination gleaming in his eyes, as if just speaking those words aloud was an act of defiance against some unfathomable force.

"How many other versions of me have you saved?" you ask, his gaze remaining on you for a moment before faltering, and he looks away, seemingly feeling ashamed.

"None. You are... you are the only one I could save," he admits.

You silently watch him, trying to process the weight of what he had just revealed, whether intentional or not.

"That's why you can't go back. If you break enough canons, we could lose..." He gestures, and you watch as nodes begin to crumble, causing the entire web to slowly disintegrate. "Everything."

"We...?" you question, seeking clarification.

Miguel let out a tired sigh, scooting forward and reaching for your hand. You flinched at his touch, and he looked up at you, his frown slowly softening as you held out your arm. He lifted your sleeve and showed you a small red spot, the mosquito bite you had gotten a few days ago.

"For you to survive, you..." He trailed off, his thumb running over the spot slowly. "There can only be one Spider-person in every dimension. If, for whatever reason, another person becomes one, then they also become an anomaly. At that point, one of the spider-people either dies, or the dimension itself collapses. Sometimes, it's both."

Your eyes meet as he holds onto your arm. "For you to survive, you had to become... an anomaly. Instead of you dying, you became an anomaly and then got removed from that dimension. Things change without tipping the scale, without breaking the canon."

"An anomaly... You turned me into a Spider-person?" you gasp.

Miguel silently watches you. "Not exactly... I injected you with—"

"Wait! So, Miguel could die? I mean, if there can only be one Spider-person, what if the universe or dimension or canon, or whatever it is, doesn't realize I'm gone? It could still kill him?!" you interrupt, your concern and anxiety evident in your voice.

[I have run hundreds of statistics, and so far, none show any dimensional rupture or damage. The canon has technically not been broken, only altered. The end results are still the same—only one Spider-man, only one of the two of you in the dimension.]

‘’This was just some test to you? You’re risking Miguel's life, my entire dimension because of what some AI calculated?!’’ You stand up abruptly, staring down at Miguel.

[Hey!] Lyla objects, clearly offended.

‘’As long as you don’t go back and interact with that dimension, it should be safe,’’ Miguel leans forward, looking up at you with a hint of a smile on his face. ‘’You were— are, a scientific miracle. A breakthrough never thought to be possible. However, if something does disrupt your dimension, it’s our job to try to fix it. We’re not always lucky, but—‘’

You leap over the small coffee table between the two of you, aiming for the collar of his suit. Miguel swiftly captures your wrists in his hands, holding you firmly in place as you glare down at him, tears welling in your eyes.

‘’You sick-‘’ you hiss, baring your teeth at him, your nails digging into his hands.

‘’y/n, you were going to die. If not you, then your Miguel would have. You can hate me as much as you want. I didn’t make the rules, you think I’d want this…?’’ Miguel's voice wavers slightly, his eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and desperation.

In that moment, the anger inside you clashes with a sudden wave of overwhelming sadness and helplessness. You struggle against his grip, but Miguel's hold remains steady, as if he's trying to protect you from yourself.

‘’You should have just let me die,’’ you glare at him, and he looks at you, his eyes widening in surprise, ‘’At least then my dimension, my Miguel would have been safe.’’

‘’I... couldn’t...’’ Miguel mumbles, staring into your eyes, his own welling up with emotion.

‘’Why?!’’ you ask with tearful eyes, glaring down at him, your heart heavy with frustration and grief.

He watches you silently for a moment, his expression pained, before his eyebrows knit together, and he pushes you back against the couch, releasing your wrists as you fall back. ‘’No more questions for today. Lyla, get her something to eat. I have a headache.’’

You continued objecting, ignoring Lyla's attempts to distract you with food recommendations and takeout options. Your mind was consumed by the weight of the revelations, and the internal struggle left you feeling torn apart. Miguel eventually left, locking the door behind him, leaving you alone to process everything that had been revealed.

Unable to find solace in the chaos of your thoughts, you finally dropped down against the couch, pulling your knees up into a fetal position. The tears welled up again, and you cried yourself to sleep, exhaustion and emotional turmoil taking its toll on your body and mind.

---

In the following days or weeks – time seemed hazy in this new dimension – you settled into a monotonous routine. Conversations were rare, especially with Miguel. Sleeping on the couch, facing away from the room, you woke each morning to find a comforting blanket placed over you. Emotions churned as you grappled with the reality of being an anomaly here. Memories of home and loved ones tugged at your heart, while uncertainty and vulnerability clouded your mind

As days passed in the unfamiliar dimension, you grew closer to Lyla. Despite your attempts to ignore her, she proved to be persistent and engaging. She spent time with you, sharing stories and anecdotes, breaking through your emotional barriers.

During a conversation, you discovered that she had been "observing" you for quite a while. While it felt like stalking to you, she insisted it was part of her duties. After a two-hour debate, you agreed to disagree.

Lyla's presence became a source of solace in the disorienting dimension. She became a friend, easing the burden of being stranded far from home. In this vast multiverse, her companionship reminded you of the need for friendship, someone to confine in, someone to speak to.

She reminded you of Gwen…

[tsukkismoonlight]

Hi! Idk if you’re taking requests right now, but if you are can I please request headcannons or a scenario of Izana finding out he has a younger half brother(reader is younger than him by a year)from his bio parents? After reader was born, they give him to a different orphanage and he was adopted by another family. Izana finds out about his existence, after Shinichiro’s death. And maybe how Izana would treat him/interact with him(fluff if possible)? I’m sorry if this is a little too much.

hi!!! First, thank you sm for sending this in to me! I don’t get to write for tokyo rev as much as I want to so i was pretty excited for this! On that note tho,,,i really don't know enough about Izana like I probably should, so if this is a bit out of character or idk inconsistent with the actual timeline i am so sorry 😭 i also wrote this half awake so i rlly hope its not like choppy or anything,,,but anyways !!!! Also this literally took my ages to finish and i am so sorry 😭 i have the worst time with writing things especially when i /want/ to write them (and work has been a whole other thing so) but ANYWAYS

It's been some two years since Izana’s older brother died. Most of those years he had spent in denial of sorts, and there was of course, the anger that he had tried so hard not to give in to.

Two long years of carefully avoiding anyone he used to know, all while crafting his own gang as their new leader. Anything to get back at those who have wronged him, stolen from him…hurt him. He would have his kingdom, and no one could stop him, not even Manjiro Sano.

“Hey boss, this was left by the door.” A voice he doesn’t care to distinguish cuts him from his thoughts, and Izana turns to look at the manila envelope being held out to him.

He takes it quickly, flipping it over a few times before tearing it open, dumping out the contents onto the short glass table in front of him.

Pictures stare back at him. Most of which are of a young boy, and who he can assume is the boy’s family.

Izana rifles through the photos, an unwelcome feeling of anxiety shooting through his body as his eyes landed on a photocopy of a birth certificate, and an adoption paper.

“Uhh, sir?” The Tenjiku member shifted his weight on his feet, “is that like, someone we have to take out?”

Izana’s eyes slide to him, a look of pure annoyance filling them as Izana waves him off wordlessly.

Izana looks back to the pictures spread out in front of him, the unknown boy in each one who looks like he couldn’t be more than a year or two younger than Izana himself.

The words of his mother chimed in the back of his head. She had told him that he wasn’t blood relatives with his family. She had told him that he was all alone. That there was no one he truly had as a family.

In a sudden fit of rage, Izana found himself flipping the glass table onto its side, watching as it slid away and into the nearest wall.

He approached the mess of glass and photos, chest heaving. He once more peered into the eyes of that young boy, and snatched up the picture, alongside the adoption record.

He knew what he needed to do.

It only took about a week to find the kid. It took maybe another for Izana to work up the nerve to approach him.

He was sitting alone outside of a school, reading some manga that had seen better days. The thing was battered and its pages yellowed.

“Hey kid.” He said, watching as the younger boy stilled.

He looked up, puzzled, “uh…hi?”

With a clear view of his face, Izana could see the resemblance between himself and his half brother. A lot of it was in the eyes, he had the same eyes, the same never ending stare.

“Are you-“ he started, but the words caught in his throat, unable to bring him to speak the name.

“Am I what?” The boy furrowed his brows, taking a second to study Izana.

Then he did something that surprised him.

“You’re Izana! Izana Kurokawa!” He grinned, immediately getting to his feet, “that means you got my message!”

“You sent the pictures?” Izana could hardly believe it. How did this kid figure it out?

The younger boy nodded, “Well, I knew from the start that I was adopted, and well my family isn’t very secretive. But I never thought that I would have a brother! When I asked my parents they said that we had been separated when we were really young and…”

The kid rambled on, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

“You parents told you…?” Izana felt his stomach churn. Of course he wasn’t the lucky one. He had spent his whole life living a lie, and now the truth was right in front of him.

Before the kid could answer, Izana asked another question, “Are you hungry?”

He wasn't sure where it came from, but Izana had the urge to take care of the kid. Perhaps it was something he picked up from Sinichiro, or maybe it was just him wanting to be there for the kid like how he had wanted when he was younger, in the days before the Sano family.

“Uh…yeah I guess so!”

And that was all it took.

For the following weeks Izana would wake up earlier than normal just to walk with his half brother to school.

He would take him out for meals when the two could get away with it.

Izana had his gang carefully follow him around in case anyone tried to mess with the kid.

It wasn’t until one of his members brought it up to him that Izana even realized how much he was doing for the kid…for his brother.

He caught himself with a small smile on his face any time he thought about how he could do something for the kid.

Izana even began to catch himself thinking about what they could do when the kid was older. Would he want to move in with him? Maybe the kid could learn to ride one of the motor bikes with Izana. He would think about maybe even one day having him join the gang, mostly for safety reasons, but maybe in case Izana needs to pass on the mantle for any reason.

And the craziest thing about it to him was that he wasn’t even sure when he started to think this way.

All he knew was that the kid was his brother, and nothing would ever change that or come between them again.

[angelofthenight]

The Monster You Created Pt.10

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Paranoia, Flashback to verbal abuse

Word Count: 2.6k

Table of Contents

( I’m so sorry updates r taking forever😭😭 I hate slow updates just as much anyone but writing filler scenes in between big events in the book r slowing my motivation down. This chapter was supposed to be longer but I wanted to get something out to remind everyone that I am still working on it, so it ends in an awkward place )

-

You were already seated in your chair in front of the coffee table as Sam came back down the stairs. You decided to be ready to have breakfast with him after witnessing the sight of a corpse rotting within the shell of a human body staring at you right between your eyes. The whole sight left you suddenly very nervous and fearful, gaining the abrupt desire to not anger him this morning thus forcing yourself to be on good behavior, starting with sitting down at the table before he even told you to.

You kept your eyes glued to the table even though Sam’s whole demeanor did a complete flip and he felt much more sanguine. However, he didn’t sit across from you as he always did and instead placed down just your single plate of breakfast. It was a little less amount of food than usual, but you’d only notice if you studied it very hard, other than that it wasn’t that big of a difference in the case of a punishment.

You looked up at him in curiosity as he held two other plates of breakfast. “I’m really sorry but I have to go talk with our guest in the other room. And I might have lunch in there too. But I promise it’s just a today thing.” Sam said with his voice orchestrated with a whimper and sad eyes. He said this like missing a couple of minutes eating two meals with you for one day was the worst thing ever. You were still subconsciously paralyzed so you remained silent even after he left for the other room, opening it and closing slickly so you couldn’t peek.

A new distrusting fear began to bubble in your stomach at a possibility that just cursed your mind. A possibility of Sam’s true motive and intentions. A possibility that Sam has done this whole routine before. That he kidnaps every girl he likes and when they don’t fall for him back within a certain timeframe he kills them and moves onto another girl. Have you bit off more than you can chew and have frustrated Sam to the point of kidnapping a new girl? Maybe all this time he was a serial femicide killer who either murders women in a fit of rage or gets sexual pleasure from killing women he’s attracted to.

That possibility was extremely realistic and common in serial killers, which just did nothing for you but make your limbs uncontrollably tremble. You didn’t even have the resilience to stomach your food out of the pure terror that was gagging and suffocating you. Your lips violently shook as your hands endlessly wrung around each other. You felt like your ribcage was shrinking and squeezing your heart.

You knew this was only a possibility yet your trembling limbs were convinced it was true. That you were going to be murdered.

Was Sam actually going to kill you? You told yourself he wouldn’t yet you remembered that you don’t know him as well as you think. Afterall, the day before you were kidnapped was when your perspective of him was as far from the truth as possible. You didn’t know he liked you, you didn’t know he was a serial killer, and you certainly didn’t know he would kidnap you.

And by the way he stared at you with those zombie eyes, you were more convinced that you truly never really knew him at all.

Your posture was still frozen in foreboding anxiety until Sam had finally exited the side door with a look of disappointment which only enhanced at the sight of your untouched food. He shut his eyes momentarily and let out a sigh before walking over to pick up your plate. With your frightening theory still tormenting your brain you gave one last try to negotiate with the possible remaining redeemability in him.

Once he was sat in the chair on the other side of the table is when you decided to speak, continuing what you were trying to get through to him before breakfast. You took a deep swallow to drain the thick heavy trembling of fear off your uvula. “My job isn’t the only thing I’m worried about.” You said with a tense voice, your eyes never once leaving the table.

Sam took a second to lean back in his chair until he gave you furrowed brows, urging you to continue. You swallowed again, your heart beating so fast that you feared he might hear it. “I-I have a younger sister who needs me. She lives in a crappy apartment, she depends on me financially and emotionally. She’s going through a lot of shit right now and she can’t go through it on her own. I cannot stay here for long.” You tried your best to force your tone to be clear to overpower the utter shaking in its undertone.

Sam didn’t say anything at first, his pointed eyes only softening. He finally spoke up with a frown. “What’s her name?”

Your heart pumped such a beat harder that you almost wheezed from the impact. Your eyes glanced up to the T.V on the far side of the room, the memory of watching the last movie coming into your mind. “Margo.” You tried to say it as soon as he asked. He looked to the carpet and nodded. “Doesn’t she have a job or friends?”

Your stare remained on the coffee table, almost forgetting the name of any job that ever existed under the pressure of waiting eyes. Your lips were closed shut so you could heavily breathe through your nose. “She goes to the community college and works part time at the grocery store.” You said quickly. “And the friends she has aren’t the right kind of crowd for her.”

“I see…” Sam softly said, nodding his head as he looked away from you like he was deep in thought. The suffocation closing in on you was suddenly lifted when you heard him say that.

Sam returned his gaze back to you, the mood in them completely switching from light to dark. “But can you at least look me in the eyes when you lie to me.” He spat.

Your eyes widened then snapped up to him in terror, that same terror stealing all words from your throat before you could even form them. Your frown was shaking as you locked your sights on his furious expression, his glare tasing you. You opened your mouth to defend yourself for your life but your words were still taken by your alarmed terror.

Sam scoffed at your reaction and rose to his feet with a sneer rubbed across his provoked face. “I can’t believe you! As if the list of your bad behaviors wasn’t long enough, now you’re a liar too!? Jesus fucking Christ.” He viciously babbled as he began to pace the floor, you holding back tears full of dread over the fact that he actually saw right through your lie as if it were glass. Again, you really didn’t know him as well as you thought since he knows you way better than you thought.

Sam tightened his hands into fists, turning to face you to yell down at you. “You’re so full of bullshit I actually can’t believe it! A sister? Really? Are you fucking kidding me?! You think I wouldn’t know you’re an only child? I literally told you there isn’t a single thing about you I don’t remember! But you never listen!”

Your lips quaked despite biting down on your bottom lip to cease it, your hand clutching onto your other one. Your burning eyes were still wide open, your lower lash lines bearing puddles of your tears that didn’t dare to leak down your cheeks. The fear of the idea that Sam had the mind to murder you still loomed right over you so his violently raised voice was just making your current emotional state even worse.

“You think I like yelling at you?!” He still continued. “Because I don’t! But apparently the only way to make you listen to me and pay attention is if I do!”

Why do you keep ending up in this situation?

~

“Don’t yell at me.” You meekly said but with a face of seriousness as you stood in front of your tantruming boyfriend, Brady. You made the two of you leave his friends’ party early because you had to wake up early the next morning to take your car into the repair shop. You had told him before you left and he was totally fine with it but once you reminded him at the party he seemed more than angry with you.

Despite telling him he could go back after returning you home, he instigated a one way argument with you in your shared living room, the subject of the fight becoming unclear the more he yelled.

“Why?! You only listen to me when I scream! Like you’re fucking deaf!” He walked over to your still body and positioned his mouth just inches away from your ear. “Should I stand right here when I talk to you from now on!?” You squeezed your eyes shut from the high volume straight to your eardrum. “Even if I did, you probably still wouldn’t understand what I’m saying!”

~

“The only way to make you listen is if I yell!” Your dad screamed down at your adolescent form as he aggressively gestured toward the dishwasher full of day-old clean dishes that he had told you to put away before he got back from work. You were constantly sniffling as tears drizzled from your wet, sad eyes.

“You’re just like your mother! Fuckin’ pissing me off all the time!” He savagely screamed at you, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. “Do you purposely try to piss me off so that I yell at you?! Do you like it when I yell at you since that’s the only way you can listen!?”

~

Why do you keep ending up in this situation? Over and over again? You just never seem to learn no matter how many times you circle back to this.

Sam finally seemed to tire out of his yelling, catching his breath as his back faced you still holding in tears. The terror was still washing over your senses as your body was still frozen and your lips were still fighting off the quiver. His harsh sigh made you physically flinch but woke you up enough to finally ask what has been bothering you all morning.

“If…” Your courage shrunk in size when Sam turned back around, your words cowering back down your throat but you still forced them through your overly shaky voice. “If I don’t fall for you…” you looked up at him with terribly glossy eyes and lips trembling more and more, “are you gonna kill me?” Your voice broke down into wheezes as you asked it, tears finally falling; asking it out loud was unexpectedly so much harder than thinking it, genuinely questioning your potential death being too hard to bear.

Sam’s jaw dropped and a look of horror that nearly challenged yours crossed over his features, his eyes going big in shock. “Oh my god, no. No, no, no.” He desperately said, taking small steps toward you with a vulnerable voice. “Of course not. Don’t even say that. I would never dare do anything like that to you.” He said honestly. “Is that what you’ve been thinking? Shit, (Y/n), do you actually believe I would do that to you? After all the trouble I went through just to get you here with me?”

Just the mere thought of life draining from your eyes made him manic, and the mere thought of him being the cause of it was too excruciatingly painful to even stomach.

Tears began to expand in Sam’s eyes. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I love you?! And that I would never hurt you!” The man tumbled to his knees before your seated form, your body finally losing its stiffness once being coaxed back to the weakness of not believing Sam could or would hurt anyone.

“Did you know this whole situation hurts me more than you? Not being able to touch you is absolute torture for me! I just want you to trust me enough to let me touch you, to feel you in between my arms. I promised you I wouldn’t touch you without your permission, remember?” You pursed your lips together, almost forgetting that he did in fact promise that and has yet to ever touch you in any sensual manner.

He frantically gestured his hands towards his chest. “But I’m endlessly aching for your touch. I want to hold you so badly but I can’t. But once I do, I know I’ll never stop.” His proclamations slowed down as a sickening sense of lust painted over his green-hued gaze with flushed cheeks when thinking of the day that he’ll finally be allowed to touch you.

“But…” you spoke down at his lovesick visage, ignoring the fact that he probably didn’t want you to respond, “that doesn’t answer what you’re going to do with me if I never fall for you.” You nearly regretted asking despite knowing that Sam would lie to you about what would happen or be so delusional that he truly didn’t think it were possible.

Sam shortly shook his head, a small smile teasing his lips. “You’ll learn to love me. Just give it a little time and you will, I know you will!” His voice was filled with assurance and hope. He rubbed his palm over his eyes to wipe away his tears as he stood up. “But this is why he’s here.” He said just above a mumble as he turned back for his room, not comprehending he said that aloud and leaving you lightly flabbergasted.

~

Hearing the door slide open, you instantly broke your eyes away from the page of the book you were reading to distract your attention away from your predicament. With the weight of the knowledge that you would meet whoever was locked behind the other side of the door when Sam returned home, it felt like Sam was gone for much longer than usual even though in reality that wasn’t true at all. You clapped your book closed and made your way to the same chair you sit in every single day.

Sam began excitedly telling you all about the restaurant he went to for dinner and the unique way they prepare their Greek food but your mind was much too occupied with the torturing suspense of getting to finally meet your fellow captive, noting the third plate Sam had pulled out. Sam exhaled giddily with his hands on his hips, smiling down at you. “I have someone very special I’d like you to meet.” He said before walking over to the closed door with an energetic grin.

You leaned forward to try and see around him when he opened the door. Words that were too quiet and distant for you to hear were exchanged between the two of them. “Gene! I mean-Sam!” You heard a voice you didn’t recognize call out in between sounds of shuffling. Your heart began to pound in nervous avidity as you listened intently and moved your body around to try and get a glimpse into what was going on.

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart @girl-next-door-writes @queen-of-elves

[kamiversee]

MY FACE IS BEET RED AT WORK HELPPPPPPPPP

Kami!!!! 🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝🤝 THANK YOU 🤝🤝 THANK YOU 🤝 🤝THANK YOU 🤝 🤝 omfg the Choso girlies are eating GOOOOOOOOOOOD with this chapter 😭 omfg and that Gojo wet dream blurb was too fucking good aaaaaAAAAAAA i miss that blue eyed beauty every day 🤍🤍🤍 ok yeah pls consider a filthy noncanon poly ending i need these two to ruin the reader expeditiously

my mind is so hazy from reading everything. oh my god. Choso was such a menace in this chapter 🥹 this is definitely what we needed after looking at all those deleted scenes you had for him. art majors are always hidden freaks so this was just *chef's kiss*

"The man had you ruined as someone else once had you before." KAMI I JUST ABOUT DIED!!!! YOU KNOW HOW OBSESSED I AM WITH THE SUKUNA CHAPTERS AJHKAJHDASD AS SOON AS I READ THAT HER HEAD WAS BEING PUSHED INTO THE BED MY MIND IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT OF THEM 😭😭😭😭 every Choso fic/headcanon i've seen so far always makes him so subby not that i'm complaining but seeing this dominant and demeaning side of him was sooooo fucking good omg. that coupled with the cute aftercare seriously makes me contemplate on making this my favorite chapter 🥹

that part where you mentioned the night the reader first slept with him and how he had thoughts of doing other things with the keys... depending on how the sequel's going to go, i can't even imagine how some people are not going to let this go 😅 ALSO WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ALREADY SPOILED THE ALT ENDING??? i'm about to spend the remaining 7 hours at work scrolling and scheming omfg Kami pls

"You were his now, and he was yours. Nothing and no one would change that." this warmed my heart soooo much because i've had this weird anxiety that he'll eventually find out the details of the list. i just hope this statement will stay true!! maybe it's my paranoia but this also felt a bit ominous? idk i prob just need to renew my anxiety meds lmao

KAMI YOU COOKED FR

-☃️

Haha I love these sm, gimme kiss rn.

I do have the extra scene tht you & some others requested in mind so Ig I’m just curious if I should write both men dom with the reader or both subby with her since they’re both down terrible😭 Or even one dom & the other subby, IDK. But I am excited to write tht smut, TRUST.

It’s not an ending tho, just extra what if stuff !!

AND YES ART MAJORS ARE SECRETLY FREAKS !! Especially Choso bc like… look at him and tell me he’s not having horny thoughts abt his lover 24/7…

OH OH AND I HADDDD to reference Sukuna again, him and Choso do have their slight relation soooo I need to make a parallel or two ><

& as for Choso being dom… I once saw someone say how Choso would be the kinda’ guy to rage on video games based on how mad he gets in the anime & his facial expression… So like, with tht in mind for some reason I’ve just pictured Choso as the kind to only be subby when he’s still learning something in regards to sex or when he’s with someone knew & he’s just shy…

BUT ONCE THT MAN GETS COMFORTABLE? Oh yeah, its ONNN 😩🙏

Also, I didn’t explicitly say what’s gonna happen in the alt ending! I just kinda said what it’s gonna be… Like, y’know how a lot of chapters are ominous cliffhangers? Haha, imagine that but x10 ^.^

[thatpunkmaximoff]

Story: 5 out of 5 Smut: 0 out of 5

Okay, listen. If you’re looking for a book to finally dip your toe into fantasy or looking for a book to show your teenager that has absolutely zero spice, then pick this up. Seriously, pick it up!

This is such a cute read that tells a wonderful story, introduces characters that will quickly become a favorite, and might just make your heart race just a little. The magic and creatures and food will also have you turning page after page.

The Spellshop is a nice little escape and will make you fall in love with these islanders, hoping for more once the story ends.

* An anxiety prone spider plant? Yeah, I identify as Caz 😂

* Man, they set the library ablaze. That sucks.

* Um, I want a cottage. Even if I have to fix it up a bit, I want it. Along with the hot neighbor and talking plant.

* Awe. Larran brought her food and a welcome home note. How adorable.

* Ohhh. The people of the island are.. interesting. Why did her parents leave?

* Damn. Okay, so the emperor pretty much fucked everyone who wasn’t rich over by hoarding magic. The islanders think Kiela is a Big Bad City Dweller who helped hoard the magic, and well… they’re not far off. She was a librarian- a librarian who now owns the only books left in existence with magic. This won’t end well.

* Caz spoke to Larran 😂

* Aww. He was just trying to be helpful and Kiela had to go and be mean.

* Please help the people!

* Jam shop? Let’s go!

* Gosh dang it. Tobin is so adorable.

* They’re so awkward- Larran and Kiela. Adorable, really.

* Damn. Larran wants to go to the city that Kiela fled from 😬 Just tell them what’s going on!!!

* Aww. I hope she can fix Halio’s spring.

* The cloud bears. Oh my god. And she healed the tree! And saw a unicorn. Why am I so happy? 😂

* Who the hell traveled to the island during a storm?! And please don’t cause issues with Larran and Kiela. I’m invested in them!

* Aww. What’s wrong with the merbaby 🥺

* Caz named the cactus Meep 😂

* Is Radane friend or foe? 🤔

* Oh no. She saw Kiela heal Sian. At least Larran is happy.

* Aww. She shared the “remedy” with three others. And then promptly had a scare when she thought she saw Radane. Fuck. This woman better not be trouble.

* Fuck you, Radane.

* All. Larran and the ladies are supporting Kiela, even though they know she’s the one doing illegal magic 🥹

* Fuck Larran’s father. He was cruel.

* THEY KISSED! Oh my god 😭

* She’s not a fucking inspector. Still don’t like her.

* Oh my heart aches for Bryn. Her uncle killed her wife/girlfriend.

* Fuck. Just when I think they’re safe… goddammit.

* Can someone punch Fenerer..?

* Aww. The captain doesn’t wanna find her. He’s going along with the lie.

* lol. Well at least Fenerer is gone now. He was a raging dillhole.

* Oh damn. The spelled the storm away!

* Four babies were born!

* HE ASKED HER TO MARRY HIM!

[hisui-dreamer]

Dear Rinna,

It really pains me to say this, but it needed to be said. I thank you for your reply to my previous comment, however, my heart is still plagued with anxiety.

You see, I’m writing a fan novel called “Twisted Wonderland: Crystal Hearts” on Wattpad, and I’m still writing out the plot for the Savanaclaw arc. That story you wrote was exactly what I had planned to write. Now, I’m faced with a problem.

I so badly wanted to write the exact same words you wrote for your story, but I can't just copy your work, obviously. And the worst part is every time I'm tempted to, I fight against myself to resist my temptation and it's a tiring war. What should I do? I'm in a real bind here.😢 I don't know what else to do.

I also feel bothered by what @siren-serenity said about your stories. They called your stories, "beautiful, heartwrenching and soulful". You won't believe how rageful and anguished I felt when I read those words.

I felt like screaming out, "What about ME?!! What about MY stories?! Aren't THEY beautiful and soulful enough?! If they're shoddy compared to other's works, what GOOD am I as a writer?!" My heart just aches whenever I think about it!😭 I feel like I'm overlooked and cast aside, that my stories meant NOTHING.

I'm so terribly sorry for dumping my woes onto you when I really shouldn't, but I can't help myself. I'm lost, I don't know what I should do. If you have any helpful advice, I'd love to hear it. If not, I understand. You're a very kind lady, and the very last thing I want is to hurt you. I DON'T want to hurt you at all. Can you please help me? Thanks!

sorry for replying so late! i've been a bit burnt out from schoolwork haha

im so sorry you feel that way! i've been there before so i know how upsetting that can be. i hope you can take inspiration from the elements you admire and approach them in your own way, there's no limit to literature afterall, and there's definitely more to be said about the complexity of emotions going through reader and leona in that scenario. i know you'll do great!

i'm sorry siren's words upset you. it's natural to seek validation for our creative efforts, but one person's praise towards another does not diminish the value of your own work. i know if you keep honing your craft and putting yourself out there, you'll get the recognition you deserve too!