#Something triggered my anger just now and I'm seething

[silverquillsideas]

If all the mothers and sisters and grandmothers and aunts and neices and daughters, let out the rage that we're all holding inside? The rage that is age old, the rage that is wild, the rage that's just seething and roiling and thundering inside of each woman? Against the world, and all of its horrors, against all the men who have wronged us, in big and small ways, against every derision, every sarcastic laughter, every humiliating word directed at us by the society at large? every "no" that we've had to fight against? every "you're not good enough", "you're weak", "you're a woman, know your place" that's been implied, both implicitly and explicitly, over and over in our lifetimes?

What happens, if we just let go of even a fraction of that justified rage, accumulated over millenia?

I fear that the world, will simply be burnt down. Razed to the ground, until there's just ashes and lava and the white hot lightning of pure, unadulterated fury, that each of us are made to contain, oh so carefully, inside the mighty fortresses, that are the hearts of every single girl.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || He Throws His Wedding Ring [Maknae Line ] [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of blood, killing, sex trafficking (not involving the reader) murder and fighting.

JISUNG:

"I wasn't flirting with him! I don't know why you're accusing me of such a thing." You grumbled at Jisung who shook his head at you, watching as you walked toward the dressing table in your bedroom and took the earrings from your ears, the earrings he'd paid for and watched you wear as you flirted with other men. His anger was bubbling over as he stared at you,

"I saw the way you were looking at him, Yn, don't play games with me." You started rubbing your temples, getting tired of going through this again and again. Ever since you'd been dragged out of the party he'd been lecturing you about flirting, something you hadn't even done.

"I was being polite. I don't know what you want from me. First, I'm too standoffish, now I'm flirting?!" He'd told you to be nice to everyone at the party, that everyone there was someone who deserved to be treated with respect so that was what you'd been doing. You'd spoken to Dante a little longer than anyone else but you'd been helping pick a necklace for his wife - Vivian. 

"Polite?! It looked to me like you were ready to throw yourself at him. I can't have my wife acting like that, especially in our world." You stared down at the ring on your finger, feeling the weight of his accusation on your shoulders and you tried to hold back the tears.

"Jisung, I married you because I love you. I did not come into this marriage to be accused of things I didn't do." You told him, lifting your head to look at him and he was twisting the ring off his finger and placing it down onto the bed.

"Maybe you should find someone else who will let you flirt with other men," You shuddered a little at the sudden escalation of all of this. You just wanted him to understand that you hadn't done anything.

"I don't want anyone else, Jisung. I want you to trust me." You breathed out but he stormed out of the room leaving you alone you stared down at the ring on the bed, sniffling as you slowly sank down onto your knees,

"I don't think she would want you here," You heard Dante express as you looked up from the book you were reading. After Jisung had walked out on you, you'd packed a bag and headed to Vivian's for a few nights wanting to clear your head.

"Why are you here?" You turned your head to face Jisung who was seething with anger.

"Vivian invited me for a sleepover."

"Who's-" Jisung couldn't finish his question as Vivian came into the room with wine glasses, freezing when she saw Jisung standing there.

"I'm taking my wife home."

"She doesn't want to." You told him as you opened your book and went back to reading.

"She doesn't have a choice," Jisung grumbled as he took your hand and helped you up from the sofa.

"You come willingly or I take you, it's up to you, Sunshine." You hadn't heard him call you that in years and the nickname sent shivers down your spine.

"I can't be with someone who doesn't know how to trust me."

"I know how. I was an arsehole and I never should have said what I did."

"I have to see this," Dante whined but Vivian was quick to walk him to their private bedroom so you and Jisung could finish.

"I'm sorry," He stated, his voice full of concern and sincerity and you knew he meant it.

"I should have trusted you from the start but I just couldn't see past my own blind rage. Dante could take you if he wanted to."

"That would be kidnapping...I'm only interested in one man, Jisung and it's only ever always been you."

"I'm sorry," He whispered as you stepped closer to him, sighing a little as you ran your hands over his cheeks sweeping away the tears.

"Take me home." You told him before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

FELIX:

"You never listen, Felix!" You yelled out with a sharp whine, the two of you were in his office in a heated argument and almost everyone in the house had scattered after hearing you both.

"It's always your business, never a moment about us!" Your voice echoed through the room as Felix sat at his desk with his fist clenching around his glass,

"I provide for you, Yn! What more do you want?!" He finally yelled back, the final straw breaking the camel's back after listening to you yell at him for the last hour and still having no idea why you were fighting with him in the first place.

He'd only come home late and you were jumping down his neck about how he wasn't there for you.

"I want a husband that is there for me! That actually shows up when he's supposed to!" You yelled at him, shaking your head as you thought back on what tonight was supposed to be. A meal between families, your parents and Felix were going to sit down with you both for the first time in months and he hadn't even bothered to show up.

"Is this because I missed that stupid dinner?!" The fact that he was calling it stupid only further fueled your anger with him.

"Stupid? You didn't call it that when you asked your parents to come."

"Look, I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you whatever-"

"I want my fucking husband to show up when he's supposed to!" You cut him off, if you were anyone else in the world Felix would have killed you on the spot for interrupting him and you knew that.

With the argument intensifying Felix impulsively ripped off his gold band and hurled it across the room before it clattered at your feet. You stared down at it, soft sobs leaving your throat as you stared down at the ring that clearly meant nothing to him. 

"I mean that little to you?" You sniffled, turning your head to look at him and Felix was filled with instant regret but before he had a chance to utter an apology you were already fleeing the room.

It didn't take him long to find out where you were hiding and your parents let him in instantly, leaving you alone as you stared down at your wedding album.

"We used to be happy." You muttered to him, turning the pages and looking at what you used to be. Now there were nothing but cracks in your marriage and broken vows on both of your parts.

"We can still be happy..." Felix sunk down onto the floor beside you and you laid your head on his shoulder sighing a little.

"You work too much. You miss too much," You mumbled as he took your hand in his, his ring back on his finger as he stared down at your fingers that were interlocked with one another.

"I'll delegate the work, I'll take a step back." He promised, you'd heard the promises before but there was something behind his words this time that made you believe them.

SEUNGMIN:

You couldn't even believe Seungmin, after promising you that he'd stick to having fun tonight he'd snuck off to do business behind your back and at your party no less.

"What are you doing? Changbin said you were outside, you're supposed to be inside baby." Seungmin placed his hands on your shoulders but you shrugged his touch away from you, everything felt so cold with him later tonight. 

"Sixteen." You told him plainly, watching as a cab pulled up outside of the luxury hotel that Seungmin had hired out for your party tonight.

"Sixteen what?" Seungmin frowned not following along,

"You've broken sixteen promises in the last three months." You clenched the jacket around you tighter and stared at him as a storm brewed inside of you. Tonight was supposed to be special, both of you were dressed up to the nines and ready to party and he'd promised to keep everything fun.

"You promised, Seungmin that tonight was my night and you were off doing business."

"This is how things work, Yn. I needed to do this deal." He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he couldn't believe you were upset over something so small. It was a business he'd been working on for almost a year now and tonight was the only night the man was willing to close the deal, it was his only chance.

"You promised." You whispered, trying to get him to realise the weight of his actions but it was as though he didn't care at all.

"You knew when you married me things were going to be like this." As if that was any justification for any of this, you shook your head at him and stepped toward the cab opening the door for yourself. 

"Did I? Because the Seungmin I thought I was marrying never broke a single promise to me." The whole nine years before the two of you had gotten married had been the best times of your relationship, it felt as though once he had you he didn't care to try and put in any more effort.

"Then maybe you never should have married me then," The words hung in the air as you both stared at each other, the DJ's music the only buffer between you.

"Maybe." You whispered staring at him, waiting for him to take it back or to at least take you back inside but he just took off his ring and threw it behind the cab. He locked eyes with you as you got into the car and told the driver to drive, anywhere but there and the gravity of his action began to weigh down on him.

"Yn! Wait!" He yelled out but the car was already speeding off leaving him in the aftermath of what he had just done.

"Why am I here?" You questioned Changbin - your personal guard - he'd dragged you out of bed that morning and down to Seungmin's home saying nothing to you.

"This will come as a surprise to many of you but it's come to my attention that I must step down." You stared at Seungmin as he spoke into a crowd of men.

"This isn't something I regret to inform you, in fact, it's something I'm welcoming with open arms." His eyes found yours in the crowd and he smiled warmly, 

"I'm leaving to spend time with my wife and eventually our growing family. I'll still be here but...mostly behind the scenes." With that he stepped away and headed over to you right away, you sniffled a little.

"Who said your wife still wants you?" You teased a little as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you flush with his chest.

"If she doesn't I will spend every single day of my life trying to make her want me back," You smiled weakly before kissing him softly.

JEONGIN:

After the shot rang out you felt the warmth of blood on your face you knew what Jeongin had done and you felt sick as you stared down at the floor to see the man who had just been speaking about you on the floor. 

"W-What the fuck?!" You yelled out as you stared at Jeongin who was calmly making his way over to you and wiping your face with a tissue as if this was the most normal thing in the world for him to do. Which was in his line of work but he'd promised never to do anything like this in front of you, it was one of the conditions you had when you agreed to get married.

"He had it coming, he shouldn't have disrespected you," It was true he shouldn't have but that didn't mean taking the life of a man that neither of you knew.

"What if he had a family and he was their sole earner?!" You yelled at him but he shrugged, bending down and collecting the man's wallet so he could have his men do a background check.

"I'll provide for them. They're better off without the drunken low-life." You began walking away from him,

"That's not the way to the car, Beautiful." You ignored the nickname he had for you as you continued to walk in the opposite direction of him.

"You went too far, Jeongin." You using his full name was never a good sign and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

"I didn't ask you to kill anyone for me." Your voice quivered with anger and fear as you shook your head at him.

"I did it for you. He was disrespecting you and I won't have it." You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him, you couldn't believe that this was the same man you had once fallen in love with.

"So you'll kill anyone that even looks at me wrong?"

"If that's what it takes." He told you plainly, you let out a scoff and threw your hands up in defeat. The frustation finally took over as you stared at him. You needed him to see how wrong all of this was for him,

"You're disgusting. All of this power has gone to your head!"

"I do what needs to be done. This is our life and I won't let anyone or anything threaten it!" He yells at you, his face red with anger as you stare at him breathing heavily.

"I don't want this life anymore, not if it means losing you to the power you hold." You mumbled to him in the heat of the moment but Jeongin smirked at you, taking off his ring and throwing it to the floor. Silence hung in the air as you stared down at the ring in disbelief, the unbreakable bond you'd made together was now thrown to the ground as if it were trash so you walked away.

As it turned out it wasn't as easy as you'd hoped to walk away from Jeongin, you were forced to interact as a couple at events and the same with tonight.

"Will you ever speak to me again?" Jeongin whispered to you, 

"No, while you're a power-hungry weirdo," You mumbled before drinking from your glass, downing it and asking for another which was promptly brought to you.

"I'm stepping down." He told you as he watched you down another drink,

"I've heard that before." You grumbled only for him to place his hand on top of yours.

"Chan is taking over, I shouldn't be in charge," You stared at him and glanced over at Chan who was nervously waiting to speak to the party full of people.

"Is that what tonight is? You're resigning?"

"Stepping down, I'll still work but I won't...be in charge," He admitted as you stared at him,

"Why?"

"Because given the choice between my wife and work? I choose you, every time." He whispered before clapping for Chan along with everyone else in the room.

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[queenshelby]

The Client (Rewritten)

Part One: Starting Out

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (37) & Reader (35)

Note: In this fic Cillian is a lawyer, helping the reader after she becomes a victim of domestic abuse.

It was one of those days again where James was seething with anger. Exhausted from overwork, his mounting stress erupted in a torrent of fury directed at you.

"Didn't I fucking tell you to clean up this mess an hour ago?” he bellowed the moment he barged in at 6 o’clock, his eyes ablaze with disapproval. You knew that yet again, your efforts fell short of his demanding standards.

“James, I am sorry. I lost track of time. I was in the garden…” you faltered, justifying yourself, avoiding his piercing gaze as you spoke.

“When I talk to you, you look at me! Understood?” James hissed as he yanked your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his imposing glare.

"I-I'm sorry, i-it won't happen again, I promise," you whimpered in fear, the sting of his slap still fresh on your face as you crumpled to the floor.

Without warning, he had struck you once more, the scalding tears tracing a path down your cheeks.

"Look at the things you make me do Y/N! I don't want be the bad guy here," James muttered, hoisting you to your feet as you wiped away the evidence of your pain.

“I am…” you attempted to speak, but he cut you off abruptly.

"I am sorry. I overreacted,” remorse etched on his face, though you didn't want his apology, refusing to meet his gaze as he enveloped you in a suffocating embrace.

“Okay,” you choked on a sob, swallowing hard. Words failed you, a suffocating fear gripping your heart.

Nine weeks pregnant with your unborn child, the last thing you wanted was to draw his wrath further. It wasn’t the first time his fists struck you, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. Amidst his tirades and vicious cycles of abuse, his apologies felt hollow, the promise of change a mere illusion.

"Come on now, Y/N. Some of the senior associates are coming over tomorrow, and I need this place spotless! You don’t want to embarrass me, do you?” James remarked as he released you, prompting you to nod meekly and reach for the vacuum cleaner.

Without wasting a single moment, you attacked the housework, vacuuming and scrubbing with a frenzied determination. Every inch of the furniture received your fierce dusting, and not even the windows escaped your meticulous cleaning. By around 9 o’clock, you had conquered the tasks, but the exhaustion had already settled in.

As you completed your chores, you ascended the stairs to the bathroom, yearning for a brief respite under the warm water. Wrapping a towel around your trembling frame, you hastened to your bedroom to change into something more comfortable, but your attire failed to appease your husband's dissatisfaction.

“For once, could you not make an effort for me? I am your husband, after all,” James seethed, his breath reeking of alcohol as he barged into the room, making his presence felt.

He must have faced a brutal day, likely losing a pivotal legal battle, a realization that spelled trouble for you.

“Please, James, not now,” you pleaded, your words trembling with fear as he advanced towards you menacingly.

"You are mine. You will obey. If I desire, you will submit. You are good for nothing else," James growled, his tone dripping with malice as he forcefully pushed you against the wall, his grip tightening.

"James, please, I'm pregnant. You know this," you cried out amidst tears, attempting to evade his suffocating presence.

"So what?" James spat venomously. "That doesn't exempt you from my needs. On your knees, now," he commanded, gripping your hair and throat mercilessly, his wrath escalating.

"Stop! Just stop!" you begged, your voice breaking as you struggled against his brutal advances, triggering his unchecked fury.

He suddenly kicked your stomach, first once and then twice and slapped you till your face was bleeding once again.  

He was full of rage, and you couldn't make it stop. You were just going to let him do this to you because you didn’t have any strength anymore to fight him. You started seeing dark everywhere and before you knew it you blacked out.

Hours later, you woke up at the local hospital, engulfed by searing pain and exhaustion. Despite the haunting memories of what had befallen you, you chose to keep silent about the truth.

“I fell down the stairs,” you feebly explained to the nurse, offering a feigned facade. Unfamiliar with your history, she dismissed it as a minor accident.

But beneath her seemingly indifferent exterior, a flicker of concern burned brightly. As she somberly delivered the news of your lost child, you found a peculiar solace in the revelation, casting shadows of doubt on your inner turmoil.

“You appear oddly composed despite your loss. Is there anything I can do for you? I can arrange for a psychologist or call your husband to be here with you,” the nurse endeavored to comfort you, sensing an unseen weight upon your shoulders.

“The pregnancy was not planned. I didn't really want another child, so I will be fine,” you mumbled uncertainly, concealing the painful truth that your husband had manipulated you into this plight.

As you pondered your bleak predicament, the specter of freedom beckoned. Yet, with nothing to your name, escape seemed as elusive as a wisp of smoke.

“But, actually…” you hesitated just as the nurse was about to depart.

“Can you please call my brother for me? I don't have my phone on me, and I don't have a wallet either,” you implored, hoping against hope that the nurse would grant you this one favor and that your brother would pick up your call after almost a decade of silence.

“Of course, use my phone,” the nurse offered kindly, extending the lifeline you sought. With Dermont's number etched into your memory, you dialed it, engulfed by a mix of trepidation and longing.

After about three rings , a rough, familiar voice answered, "Who is this?"

"It's me. Please don't hang up ," you blurted out hastily, anxious the nurse wouldn't witness the conversation unfold given how you had parted ways with Dermont many years ago.

A brief pause followed, and your breath hitched, amplifying the suspense.

"Y/N," he finally said, his tone laced with surprise and perhaps a sliver of compassion. The name he hadn't uttered in so long seemed to weigh upon him, dragging up dusty memories of a shared past.

"I'm at the hospital. Can you come? I need your help. I have nowhere else to turn," you murmured into the phone, your voice cracking with unshed tears.

The heaviness of those words hung in the air, enveloped by a thick silence. You could barely discern whether he was mulling over your request or simply wrestling with the fervent desire to hang up.

"Which hospital?" Dermont asked, his tone now a shade softer. It seemed there was always a piece of him, deep within his heart that wouldn't abandon you despite your troubled past.

"Mater Private. I'm on the fourth floor," you mumbled as you swallowed the lump in your throat, anticipating the decision that could change the trajectory of your life forever.

"All right. I'm on my way," Dermont reassured, trying to hide the unease lacing his voice.

The phone call terminated, leaving you on tenterhooks, the enormity of your actions mercilessly sinking in.

The nurse watched you with gentle eyes, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. A whirlpool of agonizing vulnerability consumed you, spreading barbed tendrils of panic but somehow you knew that, at least for now, you were safe. Dermont would be coming from you and you would not have to face James again. 

Hours later, at Cillian's House....

It was around midnight when Cillian’s phone rang, ripping him out of his sleep.

“Jesus, why is someone calling you so late?” Janette, Cillian's paralegal, yelped while laying next to him. She pulled the doona over her face to cover her ears, trying to block out the unexpected interruption. Cillian and her had been entangled in an on-and-off romance for a few months now. It wasn't anything serious, just innocent fun on restless occasions.

“It’s a friend. It’s probably urgent,” Cillian murmured to her before taking the call and, as Dermont's panicky voice flooded his ears, a sense of urgency gripped him.

Barely shaking off the dregs of sleep, he scrambled out of bed, his actions fueled by instinct.

"What's going on, Dermont?" Cillian asked hurriedly, his mind shifting gears as he mentally prepared to handle whatever crisis his friend was in. 

“I urgently need an AVO. It can't wait,” Dermont nervously admitted and Cillian could hear the strain in his voice. 

"What the fuck for?" he wanted to know, thinking that Dermont had gotten himself in trouble and what he heard next made him forget all about his restless night.

"It's for my sister, Y/N. I swear, she needs it urgently. She's at the hospital because her sick bastard of a husband did beat her up again," Dermont explained and the sudden mention of your name made Cillian bolt upright. 

"How bad are her injuries? Is she alright?"  Cillian queried urgently, concern etching lines onto his face. The strong defenses he had erected around his heart began to weaken, an unspoken history pulling him under. Despite having lost touch with you just over sixteen years ago, memories of you remained vivid.

Dermont sighed before replying, "The doctors and nurses managed to deal with the damage. She's alive but she her entire body is covered in bruises,"  Dermont's voice cracked, conveying his helplessness at the distance that had grown between them after all these years.

"Did she report him to the police?" Cillian asked through clenched teeth, his cool demeanor betraying an intense surge of anger.

"Not yet. She's scared, man. She is really scared," Dermont whispered, the weight of his words settling menacingly in the air. 

"Listen, there is nothing we can really do tonight. You need to take her to the shelter on York Street. She'll be safe there. They provide emergency accommodation in cases like this. Come to my office with her tomorrow morning, at 8 o’clock and we'll start the paperwork,” Cillian advised, his mind racing through scenarios to ensure everyone's safety.  "Oh, and Dermont, get her a prepaid phone. She shouldn't be using hers in case her husband is tracking her," Cillian added as an afterthought, knowing that dangerous men like James often went to great lengths to control and harm their victims.

"Thanks, man," Dermont responded appreciatively, the reality that his friend was offering a much-needed olive branch sinking in.

"Of course. I will see you both tomorrow," Cillian agreed as he terminated the call with a sense of purpose coursing through his veins. As he glanced at Janette, who had since emerged from beneath the covers, a spark of clarity illuminated his eyes.

"What happened?" she wanted to know as Cillian climbed back into bed beside her.

"My friend's sister needs an AVO. Her husband has been beating her for a while I think and she just ended up in hospital tonight," Cillian pensively uttered the words as he slipped back into bed, disrupting the tranquility of the room that suddenly seemed tainted by the overwhelming gravity of the situation.

Janette blinked, slowly awakening to this revelation and the evident distress on Cillian's face. 

"I don't get it," she said softly. "Why are you even getting involved in this? You no longer do this kind of work and should refer her to Legal Aid rather than taking this case pro-bono which I know is what you are going to do." 

Cillian let out a sigh before replying, "Because he is my best friend, and I knew her from when we were young. We basically grew up in the same neighborhood."  he clarified, while absentmindedly toying with a loose thread on the blanket.

"Okay sure," she replied, immediately lapsing into a trance-like silence. With furrowed eyebrows and a partly sealed mouth, Janette's disapproval lingered uncomfortably in the room. "But honestly, do you even think that she will accept your help? If her husband has been doing this to her for a while, then she might even go back to him after a you bring a lawsuit," Janette interjected, the skepticism evident in her voice. "She's obviously got mental issues. Women who allow men to do this kind of stuff for a prolonged period of time usually have other things going on with them Cillian and you may not be able to save her," Janette persisted, exposing her doubts about the situation at hand.

Cillian felt a pang of defensiveness on behalf of you which was something he hadn't seen in over a decade and a half. "She isn't that type of woman, trust me. I knew her quite well," he stated emphatically, as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair before sighing deeply. "Let's just get back to sleep, alright?" he then murmured, draping an arm around Janette's waist. But his mind remained restless, preoccupied with thoughts of your predicament and, to make matters even worse, when had fallen back asleep, Cillian's thoughts drifted back to their shared past, resurrecting memories of a time when life seemed infinitely simpler.

One evening in particular entered his mind. It was a cold autumn night just over sixteen years ago. You had just turned 18 the month before and Cillian was visiting Cork during his Semester break.  It was Dermont's 20th Birthday and Cillian had traveled all the way from Dublin to join the celebration. 

Spotting you in the corner of the room that evening, Cillian's pulse quickened as usual. He had been feeling this irresistible pull towards you for years, but never had the courage to utter a word about it. 

"Hey," he finally said, approaching you timidly, holding a little parcel in his hand. 

"Oh hey. I didn't even know that you were coming," you responded excitedly as you spotted him.

Your smile was as dazzling as ever, bathing his heart in warmth.

"Well, I wouldn't miss your brother's birthday for the world," Cillian replied with a wink, handing over the present wrapped in shiny blue paper.  "And this is for you I suppose. I am sorry it is a bit late. So, happy belated18th birthday," he told you, his heart pounding in his chest like a wild drum.

"You shouldn't have gotten me anything," you smiled as you unwrapped the gift with your slender, small fingers revealing a bracelet featuring your favorite animal.

"Oh wow, Cillian. Thank you," you exclaimed, that warm smile lighting up your face once more, sending a flutter through Cillian's heart.

"I'm glad you like it," Cillian replied, his own mouth curving into a grin as he marveled at your unbridled delight. "I first thought getting you jewelry was weird, but I don't know, when I saw it, it seemed really fitting somehow,"  he confided, a certain vulnerability in his voice which you found both surprising and endearing.

Your fingers grazed the intricately designed silver badger, its keen little eyes gazing back at you, seeming almost fiercely protective. 

"It's perfect," you told him before leaning in to kiss his cheek.  The gesture was innocent, yet it ignited a lingering warmth between you two - a feeling that left Cillian both thrilled and lovesick.

The night wore on, and the party dwindled to a close, but that brief encounter remained etched in Cillian's memory. He sought you out a few times that evening and, eventually, he found you outside, enveloped by the chill of the night. The atmosphere was saturated with a heavy silence, the hushed rustling of leaves playing an eerie melody in the darkness. The soft glow emanating from the house cast shadows upon the garden as he hesitantly approached.

"Avoiding the drunken crowds?" Cillian asked as he sat down next to you on the big swinging bench which you always assumed to be from the seventies. In his hand, he held a pint of Guinness and you reached for it to take a sip.

Your fingers made contact with his, setting off a current that surprised both of you. "I almost forgot that you are old enough to drink now ," Cillian mentioned, trying to bring the electricity in the air back down to normal levels.

"It's not my first sip of beer, but don't tell alright?" you chuckled , before cautiously taking a mouthful of the bitter drink.

Cillian's lips spread into a warm smile, enjoying your carefree laughter. It was a sound he wished to hear more often, although he realized he knew very little about what made you truly happy. "Scout's honor," Cillian nodded, the corner of his lips twitching in a soft smile.

The frosty night descended around you, weaving in the shared quietness and the stirring breeze.

As you handed the beer glass back to Cillian, you brushed your fingertips gently against his, the little shock still radiating like a cozy secret between the two of you. Cillian studied your face, reading the emotions swimming at the surface of your eyes. Something so genuine and comely: it was invigorating, and he couldn't seem to glance away.

"I know I've never said this, but honestly, I always quite liked you, you know ," Cillian quietly admitted, baring his soul to you. Opening up to his best friend's younger sister—the girl he pined for relentlessly throughout adolescence—felt both breathtaking and slightly terrifying.

"Really?" you queried, attempting to keep your wavering voice steady. "Why didn't you say something?" you asked, the words barely audible, as a nervous flutter rose within you. Your fingers toyed with the hem of your sleeve, mirroring the tumultuous storm brewing within your heart.

Cillian let out a soft chuckle before answering, "I'm not sure, really. You were young, and I was neither mature nor brave enough to express my feelings. I don't know,"  Cillian said with a shake in his voice, bashfully lowering his gaze. The vulnerability emanating from his statement filled you with a deep warmth, especially when he raised his eyes to meet yours again.

As you stared at each other, a wave of intensity rippled between you. "I kinda liked you too , y'know," you confessed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn't tear your gaze away from the depth of Cillian's ocean blue eyes.

"In fact, I always had the biggest crush on you but just when I was ready to tell you were dating Siobhan O'Connor and  I hated that. I thought you would never notice me," you admitted nervously.

Cillian looked taken aback, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

"What? That can't be," Cillian countered. "Of course, I noticed you! You had always been the most beautiful girl at every party we went to," Cillian cheerfully insisted, causing a soft blush to grace your cheeks. 

"Do you still think so?" you asked, your voice barely audible as a shiver of anticipation coursed down your spine. You shuffled closer, your breath hitching when your thighs brushed tantalizingly against Cillian's. Suddenly, he felt like the only solid thing in a world of chaos.

Cillian's gaze dropped to your lips, and in that moment, he knew that you two had been dancing around each other for far too long. 

"Yes, I do. You are beautiful,"  Cillian whispered hoarsely, leaning in to cup your face gently. Your eyes fluttered shut, and his lips met yours in a searing kiss that turned the world upside down. Every fear, every moment of hesitation dissipated like smoke in the night, replaced by the thunderous wave of desire.

You hesitated at first, unsure of how to react to the sudden turn of events as you had never been touched with such tenderness, and it took a moment to adjust.

Yet, as Cillian deepened the kiss, you realized that something seemed to awaken within you—a heavy hunger you didn’t know existed.

With shaky hands, you reached for his face, tracing your fingers his jawline. Cillian reacted with a low groan, tightening his arms around your waist. You tugged at the bottom edge of his sweater, desperate to feel more of him pressed up against you.

"Do you want to go to my room?" you murmured, pulling away just enough to speak. Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Cillian heard you loud and clear as if it was the most reasonable thing anyone has ever asked him. Albeit sensing your nervousness, he nodded and, shortly after that you led him to your room while everything around you seemed to blur.

You locked the door behind you, taking a brief moment to survey the room that was once yours but now seemed foreign.

The single bed was pushed against the wall, and a vanity littered with makeup and hair supplies occupied the other corner. But all of that faded into the background as you turned to face Cillian.

"We probably shouldn't tell Dermont about this," you murmured with a hesitant smile and Cillian chuckled softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair away from your face.

"Probably not," he replied, caressing your cheek gently.

As he leaned in to kiss you once more, you could feel the heat rising between you two. Your breath hitched as his hands roamed your body, and you clung to him greedily, running your fingers through his hair.

Cillian's fingers found the hem of your shirt, slipping under it to touch the warm, smooth skin beneath.

You shivered nervously  , but didn't stop him. Instead, you pulled him closer, your fingers digging into his back.

Cillian kissed you harder, his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands moved up to cup your breasts, and you arched your back, moaning into his mouth.

You could feel his hardness pressing into your hip, and you reached down to touch him over his jeans.

Cillian hissed, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. "Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.

You bit your lip, feeling reckless and wild. "I never, you know , did it before," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I want to, with you."

"Are you sure? We don't have to,"  Cillian said, searching your face for any signs of hesitation or uncertainty. But you only saw concern and care in his eyes - a stark contrast to the hunger and desire that had consumed you both just moments earlier.

"I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to pull him down onto the bed with you for another kiss. Your bodies pressed together, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. Cillian's hands roamed your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips before settling on the button of your jeans.

With trembling fingers, he undid the button and slid the zipper down, revealing the lacy red thong that lay beneath.

You watched him, your breath hitching as his gaze dropped to your lower half. Cillian swallowed hard, his throat dry as he saw the dampness seeping through the fabric of your underwear.

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered, his voice ragged. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of your jeans and dragged them down your legs, leaving you laying there in just your thong and your snug fitting t-shirt.   The anticipation coiled tight in your belly while you watched him stand and remove his own clothes, letting them fall to the floor where his shoes already lay discarded.

His body was lean and covered in freckles. Your eyes were drawn to the firm muscles of his abs, your gaze tracing the lines and ridges formed by his body. Then they wandered lower, to the bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs. 

You quickly sat up and pulled off your t-shirt , tossing it aside with eagerness, revealing your bare breasts for the first time to his gaze. 

You sat there nervously  , anticipation and excitement coiling in your belly. Your nipples hardened under his gaze and you couldn't help but feel self-conscious.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," Cillian said, as he knelt on the bed and crawled towards you, trailing his fingers over your skin. You inhaled sharply and leaned back to allow him access. He gently caressed one breast and then the other, before leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. You gasped as his hot mouth closed around it, and your body trembled under his touch.

The sensation of his tongue swirling around your nipple sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pooling in your core.

You let out a low moan, arching your back as he teased you. Your hands roved over his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath your fingertips. Cillian's hand traced a path from your breasts, down your stomach, until he reached the apex of your thighs.

He hooked his finger into the hem of your thong and slowly pulled it down your legs, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine as he stared at your naked body, taking in every inch of you.

His gaze was intense, filled with desire and longing.

His eyes met yours, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply.

His tongue plunged into your mouth, dancing with yours in a sensual rhythm that mirrored the movements of his fingers.

Cillian gently explored the folds of your pussy, discovering your slick wetness and groaning into the kiss.

He slipped a finger inside you, and you gasped at the sensation, your hips bucking upwards to meet his touch. He added a second finger, stretching you open and preparing you for what was to come.

Cillian broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and over your collarbone. He suckled at your breasts, teasing your hard nipples with his tongue before continuing his journey down your body.

He planted soft kisses along your stomach, inching lower and lower until he reached the apex of your thighs. You spread your legs wider, allowing him access to the most intimate part of your being, the scent of your arousal heavy in the air.

Cillian wasted no time in exploring you further, spreading your lips apart with his thumbs and diving his tongue into your wetness. You cried out, your fingers finding their way into his hair, holding him in place as you ground yourself against his face.

"Holy shit, I didn't expect that," you panted, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as his tongue flicked expertly against your clit.

Cillian groaned against your wetness, his hands spreading you wider open as he feasted upon you. The sensation of his tongue delving into your most intimate places was almost too much to bear, and you struggled to keep your sanity as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

"Don't stop," you pleaded, your fingers tightening in his hair as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

"Cillian, please, don't stop." Your voice was a breathy whisper, urging him to continue his assault on your senses.

Cillian eagerly obliged, redoubling his efforts and bringing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. His tongue fluttered against your clit, and his fingers plunged deeper inside you, curling up to stroke the sensitive spot within.

The sensation was indescribable, and you felt your orgasm building, spiraling higher and higher until it threatened to consume you entirely.

"Cillian!" you shouted his name as your release crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your body shuddered, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Cillian didn't relent, his tongue continuing to circle and flick against your sensitive clit, drawing out your orgasm for what felt like an eternity. When you could finally take no more, you pushed his head away gently, panting and gasping for air. He looked up at you with satisfied eyes, crawling up your body to kiss you deeply, sharing the taste of your release with you.

It was the strangest but most satisfying experience , feeling his face slick with your desire, knowing that it was because he had pleasured you in the most earth-shattering way possible.

He brushed the hair away from your sweaty forehead, murmuring sweet words of love and adoration.

"You taste fucking delicious," Cillian whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his lips traced the shell of your ear.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for another searing kiss.

As you were kissing, you reached into his briefs , wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft. Cillian hissed, his hips bucking forward as you began to stroke him firmly.

"Goddamn, Y/N," Cillian growled, his blue eyes dark with desire as he watched your every move. "You're going to make me come like this."

"That's the idea," you purred, rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the bead of pre-come that had gathered there.

"No, really," Cillian tried to sound stern, but even he could hear the barely concealed desperation in his voice. You chuckled and continued your assault, your hand moving faster and faster along his length. "I wanted this for so long. I need to feel you. All of you,"  Cillian moaned, as you released his manhood from the confines of the briefs. His cock was thick and pulsating with need, and you couldn’t help but marvel at its size and girth. Cillian leaned back, resting himself on his knees, giving you the perfect view. His muscles rippled in the dim light, and the sweat glistening on his skin only added to his allure.

He pushed his briefs all the way off , tossing them to the side and leaving him completely bare.

You couldn't take your eyes off him, mesmerized by the sight of him fully naked before you. He was a work of art, and you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the male form before you.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Cillian asked, his voice low and husky. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Y/N."

But you knew what you wanted.

"I want to, Cillian. I want all of you," you whispered and, with that, Cillian was on top of you, his lips crushing down on yours in a passionate kiss.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, and you couldn't help but squirm underneath him, eager for him to enter you.

"Please, Cillian," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me."

Cillian didn't need any further encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip brushing against your slick folds. He hesitated for a moment, savoring the feeling of your wetness against him.

Then, with a slow and deliberate thrust, he entered you, filling you up completely. You gasped as he bottomed out inside you, your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

"Shit," you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Don't move yet," you begged, still adjusting to the sensation of him inside you.

Cillian obeyed, resting his forehead against yours, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back. You could feel the pulse of his cock inside you, and it sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"How does it feel?" Cillian asked, his voice strained. You could see the strain in his eyes too, the effort it took for him to hold back.

"Strange. But in a good way," you replied quietly, your breath hitching as he shifted inside you, causing your walls to clench around him.

"Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?" Cillian whispered, concern etched on his face.

"No, no, I want more," you reassured him, your hands roaming down his back and gripping his firm buttocks.

Cillian took your cue and began to move, slowly at first, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. With each thrust, his cock hit a sensitive spot inside you, eliciting a gasp every time. The smell of sweat and sex filled the room, and your bodies slapped together, creating a primal symphony that echoed through the space.

"Oh god , don't stop," you panted, your legs tightening around Cillian's waist as he thrusted into you gently, but precisely.  Your bodies melded into one, slick with sweat and desire, every movement bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Cillian's thrusts became more insistent, and your moans grew louder as he hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl.

"I can feel how wet you are for me, Y/N," Cillian whispered, his voice husky with lust.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring the corners of your mouth as he continued to thrust into you.

You moaned against his lips, your legs wrapped around his waist as you took every inch of him. The friction of his cock rubbing against your sensitive walls was driving you crazy, and it didn't take long before you felt another orgasm building inside you.

Cillian must have felt the same because he started to build his own rhythm, driving himself harder and faster into your writhing body.

"I am so close. Oh god fuck," you panted, your fingers digging into Cillian's back as your body tensed up and you released a loud moan . The intensity of the orgasm shook you to your core, making you dizzy and disoriented. Your walls clenched around Cillian's cock, the sensation sending him over the edge.

With a loud groan, Cillian came inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you up with his warm seed. He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he caught his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as your bodies slowly came down from the intense high.

Cillian's breathing was heavy, his heart pounding against your chest. You could feel his sweat mingling with yours, creating a sticky mixture that coated your skin.

"Fuck, Y/N," Cillian whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "That was intense," he gasped and you moaned loudly again as he slowly pulled out.

"Yes it was," you agreed, shivering as the cool air touched your wetness. You could feel Cillian's warmth seeping out of you, merging with the sticky fluid that dripped down to your thighs. The sensation was oddly comforting and erotic at the same time, causing you to lick your lips in anticipation.

Cillian leaned in to kiss you once more, but before you could reciprocate, there was a sudden knock on the door.

"Y/N, are you in there?" you heard your brother ask and you quickly covered Cillian's mouth with your hand before responding.  "Yes, Dermont, what do you want?" you said, trying to compose yourself. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you could still feel Cillian's warmth seeping out of you.

Cillian shot you a puzzled look, but you just shook your head slightly, indicating that he should stay quiet. He looked confused but thankfully didn't protest.

"I was looking for Cillian. Do you know where he went?" your brother asked and you were quick to respond.

"Nope , I haven't seen him," you lied, trying to hide the panic in your voice. Your heart was racing, and your body still hummed with pleasure from the intense lovemaking session you had just shared with Cillian. You could feel a blush creeping up your neck as you tried to remain calm.

"Alright," Dermont said, sounding disappointed. "Well, I'll catch up with him later then. If you see him, let him know that he left his  phone in the living room," Dermont said, his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

As soon as you heard the front door close, you let out a sigh of relief.

"That was close," you whispered to Cillian, who was still lying on top of you and  he chuckled, his breath hot against your ear.

"Too close," he agreed and then he kissed you once more before having to say his farewell for the evening. It was one and only time you had slept with each other before Cillian returned to Dublin for his studies and you went to Australia for your gap-year and whilst Cillian had promised to wait for you, life had other plans. 

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[yanderes-galore]

Could you do 2, 8, and 16 prompts by asirensrage - (Various Prompts) for Criston Cole from ASOIAF? Thanks <3

I made this a female darling just because I thought the idea of making something similar to what he had with Rhaenyra was fun to play with. So here you go, the most hated character in HOTD.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Ser Criston Cole Prompts 2, 8, 16

"Tell me you want me. Please. Just for one night tell me...tell me that you want me."

"Is this enough? Just you and me. Can it be enough?"

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'll kill anyone who does."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling (Targaryen Princess! Darling), Obsession, Mature themes (Implications of bedding/loss of maidenhood), Dark themes, Possessive behavior, Cole is a bit pathetic and down horrendous, Dubious/Consensual yet forbidden relationship.

Ser Criston Cole is your personal guard and knight. One willing to do anything for his beloved princess. As a knight, he is prepared to listen to your order no matter the cost.

However... his feelings for you go beyond that of knight and princess.

Criston Cole knows he shouldn't feel this way. You are his princess, the one he's meant to guard. Yet here he is fantasizing about ideas he really shouldn't.

Part of him wishes the roles were different. He wishes you two could love properly. He's tired of having to hide his feelings, of having to pretend you two have a professional relationship.

You two could be so much more.

Yet you've been betrothed.

His feelings could ruin your honor, yet in this case he can't bring himself to care. Whenever he looks at you, he can't help but think of how it would feel to feel your skin... to kiss your lips. As your knight... He should make you happy.

Why won't you let him make you happy?

Whenever your betrothed is in the room, Criston finds himself seething. Like a good knight, he smothers his anger the best he can. His feelings can ruin everything... no need to be so desperate.

But your betrothal makes things so damn difficult.

As much as he tried to hide his displeasure, it felt nearly impossible. Those with a keen eye could see Criston glare at your betrothed when guarding you. That along with Criston inching closer instinctively when you speak with your soon-to-be... husband.

Oof... that leaves a bad taste in his mouth....

One day during a conversation with your betrothed about wedding plans, Criston couldn't take it anymore. He tried his best to remain complacent. Yet the thought of you being wed off was too much.

"Princess. You must come back to your chambers, the queen has ordered you study."

It's a well-placed and mostly believable lie. One that's enough to drag you away from that dreaded conversation. By the time he got you in your chambers...

Well, things felt infinitely better once you were alone....

Criston couldn't help but feel a bit pathetic when he sat in your bed chamber. You sat in front of him on the bed and here he was on his knees before you. You had such a strong control over him...

He'd do anything for his princess... as any knight should.

"Princess, I'm sorry..." He sighs, hands trailing up to your waist as he looks up at you. "As your knight I should stay as your guard... but I can't help but want more than that."

Such a ritual has occurred multiple times between you. It was never much more than sweet caresses and praises. It was enough to keep the knight satiated for now, as you kept denying anything further.

He just wished you wanted this as much as he did.

"Ser Cole, you know I can't allow that...." You frown, the sight making his heart ache. "I'm betrothed, and you are my knight, we cannot-"

"Tell me you want me. Please. Just for one night tell me...tell me that you want me." Criston pleads, looking up at you with eager eyes. "Surely you don't love your betrothed more than me, do you?"

You pause at that statement. Like most arranged marriages, you had mixed feelings on your chosen husband. However... bedding your knight shouldn't even be an option.

"Ser Cole, that's irrelevant-" You try to reason, only for your knight to stand and place his hands on your shoulders.

"It's relevant to me..." Criston answers, watching you with hungry yet pleading eyes. "As your knight, I must make you happy. Wouldn't you be happier if you spent one night with me...? If you picked me instead...?"

"Ser Cole, please..." You plead, yet your knight quietly lays you down before pinning you. He's careful not to hurt you, however. After all... what knight would he be if he hurt his princess?

"Is this enough? Just you and me. Can it be enough?" He pleads to you, clearly desperate for any sort of affection you can give him. "I'm tired of watching others have you... I know you better than anyone else. Why can't you just choose me?"

"Mother would never accept me to choose a knight." You sigh, in denial of your own feelings. Between your betrothed and your knight... you will admit you're rather be given the option to choose. You like your knight...

But he seems to like his princess too much.

"What your mother thinks does not matter..." Criston mutters, eyes darkening at the thought. "All that matters is if you feel the same... all that matters to me is that you'd choose me over anyone."

Criston Cole can see the denial on your face. It only serves to encourage him, however, as he holds one of your hands to his cheek. He doesn't care what happens as long as you choose him. For even just one night... he wants to be yours... completely.

"Don't look at me as though you fear me, princess..." Criston whispers, straddling you gently to not hurt you. "I'm not going to hurt you... I'll kill anyone who does."

"You'll what?" You ask, only for Criston to press a bit closer, slowly unstrapping his armor.

"As your knight it is my duty to protect you. You should know I'm more than willing to spill blood in your name, right?" Your knight whispers, taking the time to fully remove his armor. You don't push him away, watching him with curiosity. Truth is... you do want to give in.

He's yours to use, isn't he?

"Yes... I am aware...." You murmur, breath hitching when the knight leans close again, heavy armor now cast aside.

"Please, my princess..." Your knight pleads, pressed against you desperately. "Please be mine for at least one night... make me yours... I want no other to be mine."

You know that this whole situation is a bad idea. Bedding your knight can have lasting consequences. It would be dishonorable....

But such worries are quickly suffocated once your knight kisses your lips.

For him, this was a victory he'd remember his entire life. After this, you would be impure... yet he would use that to his advantage. You won't be betrothed after this... you couldn't be after losing your maidenhood.

After this... you two could run away! After all, you'd rather do that than face your mother, right? He'd gladly accompany you somewhere no one can find you two.

Going rogue goes against his noble honor, but if it was for you, he'll accept it. You may not accept running away at first... yet he promises it is for the best! Who cares about a code of honor if he has you.

He'd kill anyone for you. The blood coating his armor and sword would be worn with pride. He'd do anything if it meant he had your praise.

For now, he'll settle for this one night until he brings up his plan. For now he's savor kissing your salty skin with a pleased groan. He'd do anything just to hear you say his name with praise.

A knight must be loyal to their princess...

Something he's more than willing to do if it pleases you and allows him more nights like this.

[maximumkillshot]

Home

Warnings: There are a lot with this one and it hits close to home. Mentions of S/A. The R word is used, sobbing, anxiety and mental episode. mentions of self harm, mentions victim blaming and slut shaming. MDNI. There is fluff spattered around.

Pairing: BangChanxReader

Characters: Bang Chan, Reader, mention of the person who S/A, people Slut Shaming and Victim Blaming. 

A/N:  Okay so this one is heavy. The things you are about to read have happened to me. I had a mental episode a while back. I wrote most of this during said episode. This is what I think Chan would do for his S/O if they went through and go through what I did. This blog has always been a safe space. I use my fictions to entertain as well as a platform to have safe conversations. If you need me as always I will hang around after drop.

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ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

“YN?” Your husband called out to you. You couldn't hear him from the pressure of today. It created a seething pool of frustration and anger as you kneeled at the foot of the bed, wanting to pray, but now that you think about it the pain of being on the floor was a sweet torture in and of itself. 

Usually, anger like this wouldn't be a problem for you. You would go down to the basement and punch granite with your poorly taped hands, yes you were only a kid then, not knowing how else to get the anger out only stopping when you'd hear a crunch. Yes, that was the start of negative coping mechanisms, and yes you are trying to either bury that anger or let it consume you fast before Chris gets home. He's dealt with enough, we don't need to add on to it.  

Now you're no longer a child… as a matter of fact, you are now an adult, an adult with a hairpin trigger vaguely yet expertly disguised as comedic sarcasm. Depression that you don't remember not having… maybe when you were 8? You weren't sure. Not to mention a cast made of a myriad of physical and mental health issues…. Disabilities… and the cast of characters just keep growing! You have the medicine and the “coping techniques”, they called it, for success! Even those fail. 

Trying to talk it out just made you more angry, the injustice looking more and more ludicrous by the second. Okay, let's try breathing. Yeah no. That didn't work either, it just gave your brain more oxygen, so your brain went from quantum computer speed to Sonic the fucking Hedgehog. Oh… ok oh oh! Let's try soundboarding. You know, talk to people, not yourself. That ended in yet another game of useless catch phrases like “calm down” and “you shouldn't be thinking of that.” 

TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T FUCKING KNOW THANK YOU! Oh, and I almost forgot the “Your method of thought isn't changing because you don't want to change '' DO YOU THINK I AM POKED ALL DAY AND SAY TO MYSELF…

‘OH I WANT TO FEEL MORE LIKE SHIT… I KNOW LET ME RUN MY FACE INTO A BRICK WALL OF ANXIETY REPEATEDLY UNTIL I CAN'T CONTROL MYSELF ANYMORE.’

You reverted to hurting the people around you due to your anger and frustration, plus you darkened the mood, you've always been a multitasker. My friends were right. I'm depressing, I was only kept around because of my ex. That was before they kicked me out… because they didn't want to believe he assaulted me. You go back to that night often… 

“I didn’t want to do that, I felt icky” You told him after he came back from cleaning himself up in the bathroom, while you were left to clean the traces of himself from your own mouth. No aftercare, no thought about you. The ghost of a boy who used you, who was an on and off friend of almost 10 years…

“I know.” he answered with no emotion.

“Then… why?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

“Because I really wanted it.” He puts his hand on your shoulder, “But I’m sorry you feel that way. Shit now I feel bad.”

Then it switched to those friends, on another night… “ I just don’t buy it. That DID NOT HAPPEN, I know him better than you.”

“I mean you did it anyway so you must’ve wanted it.”

You tried to explain that you were assaulted, it’s called coercive consent and it’s the most common form of assault. You were raped. You didn’t want to do it and he knew that but you wanted to make him happy. You tried to explain, to educate. They weren’t having it.This conversation at times whirls in your head. Making you itch to pull a trigger, do something to make the torture stop.

“You always overreact and you’re so annoying why don’t you just go the fuck away!”

“You’re so depressing just fucking go away! We only tolerated you because you are his girlfriend, just go the fuck away!” The intent in her voice. The reality. You trusted her most out of the entire group. She helped you emotionally… Now shaming you, blaming you.

Her boyfriend rendered you speachless when you called it what it was, it was rape via coercive consent:

“Oh I get the kind of person you are, you’re the type of person who gets felt up in the middle of the night by their significant other because they’re trying to get laid and you call it rape.”

You know the right method to take now, right… Yeah you do.

Isolate… process… torture yourself…cry… alone. Contain the monster, so it doesn't hurt anyone else… You're just a monster parading as a human. Don't forget it. This happens when you forget Y/N… stop being reckless. Always so fucking reckless… 

You started clenching your hands one over the other, wanting to rake the top of your hands until they bled, trying to ground yourself. Until subconsciously, you did. You rocked as you did it, trying to soothe yourself.

Sometimes you swear people don't see you drowning right in front of their fucking eyes. You know how to swim, you know how to get out, to scream, punch, fight. You want to swim, you really do. But you can only do so much in a rip current. The lifeguard sees you. But instead of helping they yell “PADDLE! JUST PADDLE YOU'LL BE FINE!” It's a different level of patronization. It just makes you want to let the tides swallow you. Because why fight when the waters are so warm?

“Y/N?!” Chris yelled as he saw your bag tossed haphazardly on the couch, never where you put it. He stopped and listened carefully. He thought back to the last text you sent him. “Shit hit the fan at work …I don't want to feel right now. I'll see you at home.” 

That middle sentence made his heart stop. He knows you… something was up. He tried texting you back, sending words of encouragement, calling, and leaving cute messages when you didn't pick up, and nothing was heard from you. As soon as he could get away from schedules he did. When he looked at the clock you had sent that message three hours beforehand, he never raced home faster. 

He knows what your mind does to you. He sees the battles every day. When he’d compliment you and you would look down, not shy, but contradictory. When he’d pick you up you would freeze and he’d remind you that you aren’t too heavy, that he loves you in every single way that you think is impossible to love you. He’d always encourage you to wear what you want, do what you want. He would caress every single curve, never being able to keep his hands off of you. Whispering into your ear in public as he tilts your head up gently after asking for permission. He’d kiss you so delicately in front of a sea of people. On the red carpet, on stage, it didn’t matter. You were and are his person, and he loved showing you off. He couldn’t win the war in your mind for you, but he damn sure would fight those battles with you.

He would fight away those negative thoughts, he’d wrap his arms around you and sing to you to will those images, the anxiety and fear away. Until those thoughts were rendered useless. He’d wrestle with them for control, as soon as he won your mind back he gave it to you. He reminded you that you are here with him for a reason. He adores you, and nothing would change that. 

It was something he promised you when he saw you breakdown while doing your medicines. You told him that you were ashamed of it all. All the illnesses, that you weren’t perfect and that you’d understand if he didn’t want you. He looked at you and helped with your medicines, learned about each of them, and their dosages. He was so gentle, smiling at you, wiping your tears. He looked at all the medicines and said, anything that keeps you alive is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren’t something to be ashamed of. He knows that sometimes you can’t hear him until he’s right in your ear. Now looked like that case.

You couldn't hear him calling out to you, your mind too loud, too vicious, bloodthirsty. When pain and self-deprecation are your main moods, all others seem like an abnormal concept. Something that is stolen, was it even real in the first place? You know one thing that was real… Chris. You hated being this… the medications, the constant fires in your mind, the barrage of hate aimed at yourself, of unbridled strength turned inward to rip yourself apart for no reason other than things piling up. He didn't deserve that. He deserves peace, the best… just like what he demands of himself, perfection. 

You got through the gauntlet at your job. People undermining your authority, people on a power trip of their own. Sending others to try to intimidate, embarrass you into submission… as if you weren't a bloodthirsty wolf that could snap any second, biting their heads clean off. “An Alpha through and through,” that's what Chris would say, “Even Alphas have to bite their tongue, Love.” 

That made you cry more because at this point you don't even know if your tongue is still existent, or if you swallowed the damn thing after you bit it off. Or worse… you still have it… but you lost your voice. You know that can't be it, we're too fucking stubborn for that.

But the hits didn't stop coming, traffic happened, then going to the doctor who said that the physical therapy you needed would eat into your personal time, your time to write, to cook for Channie and the boys, to spend time with Channie and the boys.. then you forgot the doctors note so you had to walk back in for it. Then you had to go home while you tried to talk about everything… and well now here we are. 

Even now you try to problem solve, try to nitpick at yourself, the person he loves so much. You collapsed more on the floor of your shared bedroom, cross-legged thinking of the ocean, the violent, dangerous, tumultuous ocean… something simultaneously so beautiful and scary. You want to say you are like an ocean, but you don't see beauty in yourself, only a beast. That's all we'll ever be.

Chris freezes in the hallway hearing a sob break loose from you. He hadn't heard a sob like that before, it chilled his core. How does he approach this? He sees the doctor's note thrown next to your purse… He was happy you were approved for physical therapy, you really were in a lot of pain daily from the muscle and tendon weakness, but he looked at the times…

He looked to the hallway, “Oh…Baby Girl.” He had one piece of the puzzle. He knew you loved to cook for him and the boys but this schedule meant you couldn't do that for the foreseeable future. You enjoyed seeing the boys eating, and staying fueled, knowing without that they'd opt for less healthy options. Then he saw the paper right under it. A typed log… a leger of interactions throughout your day… “No…” 

Right there, in black and white, was what you went through today, everything down to the sarcastic smirk your coworker had as you were barraged with pressure to break the rules… and you didn't break. He never would've expected you to. You are the strongest person he knows. Even under these conditions, Chris himself would break. In front of fifty plus people being berated, pushed to do something you knew you couldn’t do. 

Right at the end of it was a line, written in plain ink by hand. “Vacation not given as described by supervisor. No week off.” With tear stains smudging the ink. 

Chris started walking down the hall to the shared bedroom. As he walked closer he heard you mumbling as you sobbed. Things like “stop crying” and “it's nothing.” But one made him freeze right before he opened the door, “Chris is going to worry. You already take too much from him, get it together so he won't worry. It’ll hurt him. Stop hurting the people you love. You’re a monster.”

That made his eyes sting, you were worried about him above all else. He slowly opened the door and you couldn't find it in you to look up. You knew who it was. The aura you know and love, like salve on the holes you ripped into yourself. The small steps were only weighed down by his sneakers as he slowly spoke. 

“Hey…Baby Girl?” The tone was even more soothing. We don't deserve that. “Can you look at me please?” You just shook your head. Too embarrassed at the shambling mess you are. The real you that you hide. 

Before you knew it you saw two big hands undoing the laces on his sneakers, shortly after he toed them off. Slowly he sat in front of you groaning “Oooooookay criss-cross applesauce it is…” making you smirk as you wiped your nose with the inside of the collar of your shirt. Finally, as he settled he said “aaaaaughh” with a big puff of air… 

You just tucked your head into your chest as you hid as much as you could. He waited for a few minutes, until he said, “We can address what happened in a few minutes. But you need to know. You don't take from me.” 

Your tears kept falling as you listened, his tone calming the raging currents in your mind.

He looked at the engagement and wedding band on your left hand. He watched the tears fall, he saw the holes in you. He wanted to lunge at you, take that emotional knife away from you, smother you in affection. Hold you, his heart burned for it. Needle and thread ready to patch you up. To heal you.

 He spoke softly, “You are my everything, Y/N. You aren't a burden, a disappointment, you aren't a chore, the only thing you took from me was my heart, but you had that before I even heard your voice. The second I saw you… I gave it to you. I don't want it back either.” 

You hiccuped breaths as you listened. He scooted a little closer and he put his hands out, palm up into your vision… asking for your hands. That was when you realized you were scratching at them again. 

You unfurled them from one another, hissing where one nail was slightly deeper, the tiny droplet of blood following soon after.

He looked at your hands, humming in the back of his throat, “One second.” He didn’t want to show it, but he was worried. You feel so much and he just wants to be there to hold you, to love you. 

Then popped up and left. He came back with a first aid kit, “Oooooookay heeaarr we goar again... criss-cross.” That made you giggle the tiniest bit. Chris always loved to hear your laugh. Your laugh is infectious and it always never fails to brighten his day. He knew he was making progress.

You couldn't see it but Chris was smirking at your tiny cute form. And hearing that little giggle made him want to channel Changbin and squeal at the cuteness overload. 

“Okay my Koala Bear… hands.” When you both had started dating, he noticed you always hung on to him. You explained that he was warm and you were always frozen, especially in the colder months. You asked if it was okay for you to hold on to him like that. Internally he was trying his best not to giggle like a school boy at the prospect of you holding on to him like this naturally. He looked at you and said, “It’s no problem, you just remind me of a Koala Bear, so cute and tiny. Can I call you that? My Koala Bear?” And you nodded blushing. Since then, you’ve been his Koala Bear. 

You presented your hands to him wincing at the stretch of the new scratches and he said “So tiny… so cute. Okay tiny sting” he cleaned the bigger scratch and put a bandage on it, and checked the rest. Once he deemed it all good to have your hands back. He kissed them then returned them to your lap. “Thank you for letting me clean them.” 

You nodded and hummed. The voices slowed down. They always slowed down around him. He always was your safe place. Like home base in a baseball game. If you made it there, you’re safe. You’re home. That thought made you sad, surprisingly. How are you safe with only one person? You should have security in yourself not in someone else. Your brain was waiting to start assaulting you again. 

“Is it loud in there?” Chris asked. You've told him about all of this before, this is the first time he's seen it this bad though. The voices, memories attack you. You explained to him that sometimes your brain will do this, you try to hold it back but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

“Mhmm”

“People don't help… right?”

“mhmm”

“Can you tell me what's going on in there?”

You told him. Some.. not all. You also told him about that pesky intrusive thought about your ex and your friends. 

His body went rigid as he said, “No… they're the ones that are wrong, not you. Your ex…” He wanted to choose his words carefully. He knew that you blame yourself at times. The memory of you explaining why you were hesitant to go further when you were dating. He assured you there was no pressure. That he loved you for you, the rage boiled in him and it still does because you were never at fault for this. Especially when you trusted that asshole enough to experiment with him. He was going to be your first for everything but after what he did. The trust was gone, rightfully so.

Chris continued, “He took advantage of you, and coerced you into consent, that is not love. That is not okay? That is sexual assault. The way that your friends acted was disgusting, the way he acted was sub-human… You are not depressing, you are one of the most beautiful, talented, funny, caring, loving people I have…” his voice gave out and he cleared his throat, “You are one of the most amazing people I've ever met in my life. I love you so much and I know you feel like you're a burden on me but being with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.”

He tilted your head up and you let him, he had tears in his eyes as he said, “You have never been nor will you ever be a monster.” Your tears picked up as you looked into his eyes. You could tell, Chris doesn’t lie. He’ll tell you the truth. His tears started falling as you leaned forward, reaching for him, needing contact. When you saw him you needed his warmth, you need him to heal you. You were losing hope, faith, everything as you watched the holes in you. Seeing him holding the needle and thread. By holding you, being with you, just being himself, it heals you. You whimpered, “Need you…” As your tears switched from self-hate to desperation… you needed him and he could tell. 

He untangled his legs and scooped you up, cradling you in his arms as he rocked you petting your hair back, “You are my inspiration, my eternal love, you are the best part of my past, my present, and my future. You are the future mother to my children, the woman I'm going to grow old with, my forever and always. You are my Y/N, and I am never going to let you forget who you are and why I love you, okay?” He started crying, shielding you in his chest, protecting you. Stitching you together as you heard his heartbeat. You cried on him, relieved that you were with him.

You pulled back from him nodding. He tried to kiss your lips but you said “I'm all snotty” and he giggled. Leave it to you to be worried about snotty kisses. You looked so adorable, cheeks and nose red, nose running, tears stopping, the twinkle coming back into your eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you denying me my snotty kisses?” He giggled as he said “Okay fine. There's no snot on your forehead” he pecked your forehead, “none on your cheeks”, and laid another peck, this pattern continued for any expanse of skin he could get his lips on as you giggled at him and his barrage of affection. When he stopped he wiped your nose with his sleeve and he kissed you gently on the lips. He savored moments like this, being able to heal you, to pick you up. He looked into your eyes as he said, “now I am thinking I’ll draw up a bath for us and I’ll give you a nice massage. After that we order take away, from your favorite place, then we watch something, Hm?” He looked at you for an answer as he kept wiping tears.

You nodded and gently, he placed you back where you were and went to get the bath ready. You'll always have hard days, but those days turn into amazing nights with Chris. Your home.

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[furiousgoldfish]

I just realized how poorly I handle doing anything wrong. I accidentally made a mistake today and someone got upset and I apologized and made it right and that should have been the end of it.

But instead I withdrew into my room, had an emotional breakdown and started planning to isolate myself from humanity, never talk to anyone ever again, leave all of my friendships and just stay in that room forever trying to calm down. I became scared of every human being I've ever interacted with, convinced that they all by now decided I should be tried for my mistake and would only tell me how they're ashamed of ever been associated with me.

It's the freaking shunning, that's whats triggering me, it's the fact that after punishment as a child I would be subjected to shunning and the entire family would act as if I was poisonous, wouldn't look at me or talk to me, and seethed in anger if I was out of my room, that's what I'm now expecting as a logical consequence to getting anyone even slightly upset. It really was unsafe for me to get out of my room or interact with anyone! And now I re-live that whenever something minor happens, just because my brain is trained to expect it. I can't function in a community if any mistake has stakes this high for me.

[jainiss]

hello!

bringing reactions of luffy, sanji, ace and zoro, from one piece, when they do something that makes yn very angry. Yn have an angry attitude towards them and walk away.

Hope you guys like it ~

Ps: forgive me if there are english mistakes. English is not my native language.

Ps2: these are guesses at what I think it would be. all fictional.

Luffy's eyes widened in surprise as he watched you storm away, anger radiating from every step you took. He scratched his head, completely bewildered by the sudden turn of events. It had all started innocently enough, with Luffy being his usual carefree self.

"Hey, yn, check out this awesome new meat I found!" Luffy had exclaimed, holding up a massive chunk of meat as if it were a treasure. But instead of the usual laughter or excitement he expected from his crewmate, your reaction had been explosive.

"Luffy, you're impossible!" you yelled, your face flushed with anger. Luffy had never seen you like this before. Your fists clenched, and you pointed an accusing finger at him. "You're always thinking about food! We have more important things to do, like finding the One Piece!"

Luffy blinked, his carefree grin fading. He didn't understand what had triggered this sudden outburst. "But yn, I'm always hungry! And finding the One Piece is fun, too!"

Your glare could have burned a hole through a steel wall. "Fun? Luffy, this is serious! We're risking our lives out here, and you act like it's all a game!" With that, you turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving Luffy standing there, meat still in hand.

The crew watched in stunned silence as Luffy scratched his head again, trying to comprehend what had just happened. "I just wanted to share some meat," he mumbled, looking down at the abandoned food in his hand.

Nami sighed and patted Luffy on the back. "You have a lot to learn about people's priorities, Captain." Luffy nodded slowly, a serious expression crossing his face. "I guess I do. But I'll make it up to yn somehow, just wait and see!"

And with that newfound determination, Luffy set off to find you, determined to mend the rift he had unintentionally caused in his crew. Little did he know that this unexpected confrontation would lead to a deeper understanding of his friends and their shared journey towards finding the legendary One Piece.

---

Sanji's eyes widened in shock as he watched your face contort with anger. He had always been known for his smooth-talking and flirtatious ways, but it seemed he had crossed a line this time.

Your fists clenched, and your nostrils flared as you glared at him with intense fury. "What did I do?" Sanji stammered, taking an involuntary step back.

He had never seen you like this before, and it was more than a little unsettling. Your voice was low and dangerous as you hissed, "You think you can just flirt your way out of everything, don't you? Well, not this time, you idiot."

Sanji's heart sank as you turned on your heel and stormed away, leaving him standing there, utterly bewildered. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of what had just happened. It was clear he had underestimated your temper, and now he had to figure out how to make amends.

---

In the world of One Piece, Ace always had a fiery personality, but he never expected this kind of reaction from you. It was a sunny day on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, and the crew was gathered around, laughing and sharing stories. Ace, in his usual boisterous manner, had cracked a joke that he thought was harmless. Little did he know, it had struck a nerve with you.

You clenched your fists, your face turning a deep shade of crimson. "Ace, you...you just don't understand, do you?" you seethed, your voice trembling with anger. Ace, taken aback by your sudden outburst, blinked in surprise. "Whoa, what did I say?"

Sanji, sensing the tension in the air, stepped back and muttered, "This doesn't look good." You shot Ace a withering glare and snapped, "You're always making jokes about everything! Some things are serious, Ace. Learn to show some respect!"

The crew fell silent, watching the scene unfold. Ace, realizing the gravity of the situation, tried to offer an apology, "I didn't mean to upset you that much, yn. I'm sorry." But your anger was like a burning inferno, and you turned on your heel, storming away from Ace and the crew.

Luffy scratched his head and asked, "What just happened?" Nami, the voice of reason, sighed and explained, "I think Ace accidentally touched a sore spot, and yn's not in the mood for jokes right now."

As you disappeared into the ship's interior, Ace watched you go with a mixture of regret and confusion. He knew he had a lot to learn about sensitivity, especially when it came to you. Little did he know, he was about to embark on a journey of self-discovery, trying to understand the depths of your feelings and the importance of being more considerate towards them.

---

Zoro had always been a man of few words, his steely gaze rarely betraying any emotion. But today, he had managed to do something that had pushed you to your limits. Your temper flared like a storm on the horizon as you glared at Zoro. Your fists clenched at your sides, knuckles white with tension.

"Zoro, you're unbelievable!" you seethed, your voice sharp with anger. Zoro turned his head slightly, acknowledging your anger with a quirked eyebrow. He didn't say anything, waiting for you to continue. "You promised, Zoro!" Your voice cracked with frustration. "You promised you'd be there, and you'd support me when I needed it the most." Zoro's gaze hardened, realizing the gravity of his mistake.

He had indeed made a promise to you, and he had forgotten. It was an oversight, something he rarely allowed to happen. Your violent attitude was palpable, your anger radiating like heat waves. You turned away, unable to bear the sight of Zoro's stoic expression any longer. "I can't believe I trusted you," you muttered as you began to walk away. As you stormed off, Zoro finally spoke, his voice unusually low and filled with regret. "Yn, wait." You paused, your back still turned to him.

"What is it, Zoro?" Zoro took a step closer, his words measured and sincere. "I messed up, and I'm sorry. I should have been there for you, and I'll make it up to you. I promise." You hesitated, torn between your anger and the genuine remorse in Zoro's voice. Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes still filled with frustration. "You better keep that promise, Zoro." Zoro nodded, his gaze softening. "I will."

And so, in that moment of clashing emotions, Zoro and you found yourselves at a crossroads. Zoro had learned the importance of keeping his word, and you had discovered that even the most stoic of individuals could feel remorse. Your bond was tested, but perhaps, in time, it would grow stronger from this experience.

Byebye~

© jainiss ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

[whorediaries-09]

if you tasted poison;

pairing- sirius black x reader warning(s)- angst, sexual assault. a/n- please do not continue under cut, if any of the topics trigger you.

prequel masterlist series masterlist little train.

you were woken up by a loud thud on the door. out of instinct, you tried to crane your neck to locate the source of the sound. instead, a sharp pain shot throughout your body, tears at your waterline.

'she's not a death eater?'

'no. did you bring the veritaserum now?'

as the tears flowed down your cheeks, your vision cleared. severus snape and lucius malfoy stood by the door, discussing about you.

'we must trust the dark lord's choices. if we question it, it may backfire on us,' snape said, looking over at you. 'ah, she's awake.' lucius sneered.

'do you not trust my judgement now?'

'i'm a solemn servant of the dark lord, not yours malfoy,' the latter let out a breathe.

'the dark lord trusts me, you can't hold me captive,' you said. on a second thought, it wasn't the best decision to indicate any signs of life between them, yet here you were. lucius lifted a brow.

'you're awake now are you, mudblood?'

'must have fallen asleep. really comfy place to sleep actually,' you bit back.

'mind your attitude,'

'or what? your little snake friends will gather around and kill me? death doesn't fucking scare me,'

'you've got a nice tongue for somebody who'd in dire need of medical assistance,' lucius commented, his steps faltering near you. 'mind your attitude, or i might just feed you to nagini.' he bent over your form, tilting his head to meet your eyes.

you spat on his face.

he seethed with anger, getting away from you.

*-

for the second time that day, the door creaked open. you heard the familiar steps near you, carrying a tray, the metal of utensils clinking against each other with every movement.

'eat, i've got to keep you alive, in the least,' he said, throwing the tray on your lap. he swished his wand, setting your hands free.

'no funny business,'

he stood by you, watching as you wolfed down the food. it was bland, lacking any form of spices, and cold, but it didn't matter. as long as it was something edible, you were happy with it. you needed to be alive, and you would get out of here, alive. you drowned the glass of water, breathing heavily as you finished the food.

'good girl,' he said, taking away the tray.

'don't call me that, lucius,' you warned. he swished his wand, tying up your hands. but this time around, he let you up in the air, floating within his eye line.

'no? what should i call you then? a filthy whore perhaps?' he said, sliding the shoes off your feet. you screeched, the pain shooting right through you.

'don't touch me!' you shouted, trying to get away from him. but he had you in place, as you floated like an object in the air. he had complete control over your body.

'no?' he asked, breathing you in, his fingers raking over your form. you felt the tears clot your vision. 'i fear,' he whispered, 'you're not in much of a position to give orders.'

his hands were cold and disgusting on your body. he held your head up, craning your broken neck on the other side.

'shame,' he breathed, ripping apart your clothes, matted with your blood. 'what a fucking shame. such a pretty mudblood,' he said, eyes cold as ice gazing over the exposed skin of your naked body. his words were vile and cruel, stabbing within you. as his hands touched every part of your body, as you hung mid air, helplessly, hot tears pouring out of your eyes.

'lucius, please, please leave me,' you begged, feeling pathetic. he laughed cruelly, bitterly and coldly.

'can't,' he said, burying himself within you. 'you feel so good.' pure hot white rage filled you up as he pushed himself within you, your nerves flowing with disgust.

'taking it like such a good girl,' he groaned, his filthy hands roaming all over your body. 'what a good whore,'

*-

it was cold. your body was restricted and lump on the ground. you could feel the blood dry at your lips. your body ached from all the abuse lucius had dawned upon you. you hated yourself for it. you ought to have had been more careful. it was your fault, letting lucius catch you when you'd been sneaking in his manor.

the disgust of the feeling of his touch still tasted like poison on your tongue.

you hated how you couldn't spit it out.

you felt your body growing lump, the hot tears a quiet contradiction to the coldness. the agony was too much. you felt pathetic, your eyelids becoming heavy, as you felt your breathing falter.

you didn't have it in yourself to go with grace.

you were dying for somebody who wanted to be the hero, flying around and saving faces. you'd be buried by him as he wore the same jewels you gave him.

and with your gathered storms, you watched as the soul torturously died within you. you felt your battleships sink, killing you softly, killing you treacherously. drowning you slow and heavy, pulling you under the waves which carried you to the shore.

it was as if you saw your life flash within your mind, when you heard the voice of the loss of your life. when you saw through your tears, the sparkle of life you'd burned reflect in front of your eyes. when you felt the cold yet cozy touch, so unfamiliar yet so similar.

you felt yourself being pulled against his chest, as he whispered, into your ear, holding you close,

'fuck, please, hold on,'

pathetically, you closed your eyes, the sight of tears in the gray eyes you lost the last.

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original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

taglist (for series) - @urbansaint

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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[xr0tt3nxfl3shx]

👁💊My Medicine is underdeveloped and my Amygdala won't work.💉👁

Twomp[AU] fanfiction + art !! Pertains to the events in this post. [No beta we die.]

⚠️‼️TW: VOMITING / OVERDOSE / SUICIDAL IDEATION / UNREALITY / CORRUPT MENTAL HEALTH SYSTEM / GENERAL MENTAL ILLNESS THEMES‼️⚠️

A/N: i didnt wanna mention it tbh but just in case, ive been down the chemical consumption road 3 times, an i mention because i know the internet has opinions on mental illness in writing. But ive been there myself. All up close and personal like. so i think i can speak on it (dont castrate me)

POV: 👁Argos👁

I scratch at my skin in the dark of my room as if that'll hold in the tears from spilling over my burning red cheeks. The feeling of rage and overwhelming depression clash within me, and leave me to switch every few minutes between cursing the name of every therapist who ever told me that "I'm not even trying to get better" and crying over the idea that they might be right.

My heartbeat is so vigorous that it feels like at any moment the tendons will tear away and my heart will burst in my ribs. How could anyone say that to me? I seethe and hiss through my gritting teeth. Why can't I get better? I cry enough to fill an ocean and nearly drown in my tears.

I should be able to control all of this by now, I'm not a child. Yet, I can't stop thinking about putting the heads of those who hurt me on a platter. Or banging my head on my bedroom wall hard enough to dull the heartbreak. My eyes are running dry from all the tears, I've been at this for a while. My head is pounding from the adrenaline. All reasonable thoughts are drowned out, with intrusive and irrational ones taking the place of my internal voice of reason.

I can make it better, I can make this better. I just need to try a little harder! Just.. go a little further. These feelings, it's just a chemical imbalance right?

I'm running out of options, types of therapy, pills, at this point I might as well just get a lobotomy. I'm sure my therapist would like that.

There's still time to make this right. I don't have to end my life to end my suffering right?

I can prove them wrong. I will prove them wrong. It's just a chemical imbalance. I just need to fix it.

I rummage through the medicine cabinet above my bathroom sink, overlooking the blood crusting around the drain. There has to be something in here that can make my head stop pounding or my thoughts quiet down if not for just a little while. Maybe everything all at once? Yeah that should do!

Laid out in front of me on the cold tiled floor of my bathroom are various pill bottles. The amount of pills actually in them is varied, they like to switch my meds every other week it seems. I try to be hasty with this, pouring out a small handful of gel capsules into my hand. Each one smooth, glossy, and slightly cool to the touch.

You know, I've been here before, and typically there's some survival instinct in me, paralyzing my hands before I can do any damage. But all I can feel is anguish. And anger. And there's no more room for self preservation in me.

I take my first dose before I can come down from my emotion fueled adrenaline rush. Quickly now don't let the self preservation come back. I take my next dose of a new pill type, a tablet. It was a bad idea doing this dry but oh well!

Before I know it I'm slumped against my bathroom door, unable to continue my self medication on account of the mounds of pills I dry swallowed having begun triggering my gag reflex. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious about this, but it had to be done. My therapist is always urging me to take steps in the right direction!

(Though admittedly he never mentioned which direction is the right one.)

I make it back to my bed, dragging my feet and leaning on the wall for support the whole way. It's not even five minutes in when I start to feel the effects. I probably should've eaten before taking my pills like the instructions say.

This is different though, I feel my connection to reality slip right through my jittery fingers. Like the shadows in my room are divulging their presence. Like they are reaching out their hands, ready to take hold of me, pull me in and make me one with unreality. An emptiness overcomes me, something I've truly never felt before. And it's the strangest thing, because simultaneously I've never felt more alive in my life.

Everything is really funny, I've never noticed how funny everything is up until now. Every little unorganized thought that pops up in my foggy, spacing-out head manages to get a strained laugh out of me.

Visual snow floods my peripheral, the colors of the world begin to become one with the static in my eyes.

Ah, I remembered what I was going to do in here. I need to call Mr. Plant. I need him to know that I'm going to get better, and how much I love him of course. Oh he'll never understand just how much I love him! I love him to death, haha! Literally.

I dial in the number. Moving has proven difficult, like trying to control a vehicle while tired and out of it, or in my case trying to control a vehicle through the most debilitating brain fog I've ever experienced. The disconnection from body and thought is almost calming.

The ringing of the phone is such a funny thing as well. I could lose myself in the methodical rhythm and loose vibrations running up my hands- oh look here he's answered!

"M‐r… plant! I ha-ve.. s o me thi.. ng to tell you."

I am fighting to get the words out. The weak sounds I manage to get out of my raspy throat come out in uneven tones with jarring stutters. Why is it so hard to speak?

"I took.. a lot o-f... my me-ds. Ha-ha!" He hangs up immediately.

Is he not happy for me? It wasn't long before I heard sirens closing in. Did he call the cops on me? That's no fair, no fair at all.

I've never been rolled into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher before but there's a first time for everything I suppose. It's too bad I'm too out of it to really experience it.

In the ambulance is when the first wave of nausea hits. I could barely even feel the EMT insert the IV or hear when they asked me questions.

———

The heart palpitations do their diligence distracting from the perforations left in my arm from the injections of various medications and the IV drip.

My respiration is just as irregular as my heart's chemical damaged rhythm. I feel like I'm drowning in this heavy air and it feels like the knots in my stomach have spread to my heart. This pain is so unbearable that I feel the need to crave it out of myself with a blade.

The world is doubling- no tripling, blurring, and mushing together all at once. I can feel the hum of the fluorescent hospital light buzz through my head. The scent of rubbing alcohol and sterilized equipment is evident throughout the cold medical facility.

By my own hands I've made my body a place unsuitable for living. I've "almost drugged myself to an early grave" as the hospital staff keep reminding me.

Speaking of body, I can no longer tell where I end and the wires of the EKG machine begin. Neuropathy has set in and nerve sensation has dulled for the most part, except in my stomach and heart where it hurts the most of course. But me and the machines they have me hooked up to might as well be one as long as they are taking the place of my dysfunctional body systems.

When they run the EKG scan, which they do about every half hour, they ask me to stay as still as I can, but it's hard to control the shaking when I don't know where it comes from in the first place. I'm by no means cold, or if I am I really can't feel it.

Have I mentioned the shaking? The tremors? I need to grow accustomed to the flavor of raw stomach acid soon, because that's all I've been throwing up anymore. It's all that's left.

The nausea begins to build all over again, like my stomach is writhing and contorting in my torso. I can feel the knots being tied. Over the next few minutes it builds and builds, I'd do anything to stop the encroaching bile now. The nausea completely overwhelms my senses right before another round of the most violent retching I've ever experienced. Accompanied by the most awful squelching and splattering sounds as it hits the rest of vomit already resting at the bottom of the bag.

I feel like I'm nearing being turned inside out everytime it happens. And I've filled yet another vomit bag. This isn't going to stop for days as the doctor told me. I doubt I'll get the luxury of unconsciousness.

The activated charcoal they gave me to drink is like this black sludge, "slow and steady now, don't drink so fast you throw it all up but not so slow that you succumb to the consequences of your own actions." Well maybe that's not what they really said but it's how it felt. I can tell the staff are judging me, I just know it! They think I deserve this.

At least the charcoal is cherry flavored.

My many eyes dart around the clean and pristine hospital room erratically, glancing off in every direction. I don't want anyone to look at me anymore. I can't stand the buzz of the lights and I can barely bring myself to move enough to blink. Or even move enough to breathe. I am much too dizzy and light-headed to even consider standing up. I'm so dizzy I could swear I'm phasing in and out of my body. The only thing keeping my consciousness bound to this body is the unending pain ancoring me in the reality of my situation.

It's growing increasingly unbearable.

Above all else I am losing my mind trying to figure out where I went wrong tonight. These chemicals were supposed to fix all these feelings. The pills were supposed to fix me. My psychiatrists and therapists all told me that I'm sick, disordered, and all I needed was to buy a few more medicines.

It must be my fault, it must be if hundreds of milligrams of mood stabilizers can't just make it better.

Tell me, anyone tell me, why I'm so useless that I can't even help myself?

Why am I so worthless that my medicine won't work on me?

I am almost entirely suspended in unreality. The prozac, olanzapine, mirtazapine, and everything other useless drug they gave me were meant to cure me. I've tried everything!

I've done the very most I can to try and make the bad thoughts quiet down. And are the thoughts that tell me "I'd be better dead", my own thoughts, or a symptom of one of my diagnoses?

Is the reason I'm like this the same reason I don't deserve love, or do I not deserve love because I'm like this? I want to get better. I swear I really do.

So why does no one believe me?

"Sir, you have a visitor." The nurse informs me in a harsh yet hush tone.

The words barely make it through my chemical head. I'm practically catatonic in this hospital bed. But when I do process them I pray to every divine that it is who I think it is.

Red petals on the top and bottom, two yellow petals, one pink and one blue. I was right!

I can't believe he came all the way down to this void to come see me. I really thought he'd stay home. I don't think anyone or anything could possibly understand the pure desperation I feel coursing through my veins. Right alongside the saline they're using to flush my IV of course.

My boyfriend entered my hospital room, #34 I believe, I saw when they rolled me in on the stretcher. Tears well up in my dried eyes, I couldn't feel enough of anything to cry while drugged out of my head but seeing him, well, I need him more than I have ever needed anyone before.

The look on his face when he saw me is one I didn't know he was capable of, pure horror even. I must look horrible stained with my own bile in these itchy hospital scrubs. He is quick to clasp my hand in his and rub along my knuckles and the back of my palm. Through the blurred vision and tears I can't even make him out anymore but I don't need to, I just need his touch. I need it so badly.

I have no depth perception at the moment, or hand eye coordination, and again everything is quite blurry so it was mostly unintentional when I pulled him in by the sweater. He leans into me and wraps his arms under my upper back, holding me against his chest.

He's warm against me, holding me gently in a hospital bed. I can't feel much at all other than the pain, his warmth was the only other sensation I could pin down in my head. It was such a harsh contrast from how I normally see him acting.

With him so close I can't tell where he ends and I begin this time. Even in one of my most painful moments, I feel a familiar comfort in my palpitating heart. He's the only thing keeping me from going entirely mad. He has no idea what I'd give to melt into him right here right now, become an amalgamated abomination of our half hazardly bonded flesh and bone. I'm afraid I'd ruin him and all his perfection with me and all my misshapen and grotesqueness.

I am especially disgusting as of now, making him worry about me like this. Can I not be horrible for just one second? Selfish, that's it. I must be selfish. I take another go at speaking a moment after we pull away. All I can muster is an apology that comes out more like a pathetic stammer through my tears.

The way his cold gaze met mine shook me. I've never seen real tears stream down his face. He looks so... distraught. Its like he's looking right through me and simultaneously looking directly at me. And on top of everything I've never seen him sign so frantically. He rarely signs at all.

"Please don't be sorry."

…

"Don't strain your voice."

"Just stay right there, okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'll get you anything, I'd do anything for you."

I knew he cared about me, but I guess I never realized just how much. Or maybe I just forgot. How horrible am I?

Is it possible I'm actually worth something to him? Worth enough for him to call me an ambulance, worth enough for him to comfort me in the hospital bed, worth enough for him to cry over me?

Was I really worth staying with all this time?

My thoughts are interrupted by another round of retching, it seems those knots in my stomach weren't just anxiety. Mr. Plant holds my hand through it. I'm gonna be here a while, I know that. But he's here with me, and from the looks of it he isn't leaving my side anytime soon.

I'll make it out alive, not for myself, just for him. And for the possibility that maybe he needs me just as much as I need him. I wish my mind wasn't so scrambled, so I could find the words to express just how much I love him.

I love you Mr. Plant.

[m2ok]

Hello! Hope I'm not bothering you, can I make a request?

Could you please write Price comforting a m!reader after he has a bad encounter with his abusive parents?

Mine are back in my life causing chaos again and I want Price to hug me so bad (╥﹏╥)

(Also you write really good fics! Keep up the amazing work)

-🇷🇺

Of course I can!! I’m very sorry to hear about your parents, but I hope this helps a bit :) thank you for your request, and I hope things can better for you soon, love 🫶🫶

A Hug That Feels Like a Safe Haven

John Price X M!Reader

TW: mentions of parental abuse.

A/n: I didn’t get too into what the parents did exactly because I didn’t want it to be too triggering, but I hope you enjoy <3

Going home after a mission was never easy, it honestly was worse than the actual mission sometimes. It didn’t even feel like home, not when you weren’t welcomed, when your mere existence seemed to upset those around you.

This time hit especially hard, you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because the mission beforehand was emotionally taxing and you were already overloaded, maybe because you had gotten so used to being away from them that the thought of going back to that hell hole broke you down.

Either way, you had gotten out of there as soon as you could. You went back to base a week early, you couldn’t stand being around them any longer and you just had to get back to your real home, with your real family.

You were in survival mode since you left your ‘home’ and it seemed your body hadn’t realized it was safe yet, because even as you stepped back into the building you were still on edge. Your eyes were glancing everywhere for any threat of danger and you were aware of any little door closing like it could somehow be the people who hurt you coming back to continue.

You jumped when a sudden hand was placed on your shoulder, dropping your bag as you spun around and shoved the hand off.

You were met with the concerned face of your Captain, his hand still lingering in the air before he let it rest at his side. You immediately went wide eyes, hands coming up in defense as you apologized profusely.

“I’m sorry-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-“ you were shaking where you stood, and it shocked him to the core. He’d never seen you this…out of it, scared. Even on the battlefield you were calm and kept a level head, so what had shaken you this hard?

“Hey…hey it’s alright” he said as he gently took your hands in his own, the firm yet gentle grasp slowly easing you down from flight or fight mode.

He rubbed gentle circles to the tops of your hands “what happened?” He asked softly, and just like his hold on your hand his voice was soft, it was warm. He genuinely cared about what had scared you, and the thought alone had you breaking down. You weren’t used to this kind of gentleness, it was something your parents never gave you. John cared about you.

With a choked sob you fell into his arms, and he immediately wrapped his own around you. He didn’t question it as he held you tight against his body. You held onto the man like your life depended on it, your fingers gripping his shirt as you buried your head in his neck.

His arms tightened around you, one hand on your shoulder with the other held you tight against your back. It was just the right amount of pressure, it made you feel warm, it made you feel safe. You knew nothing, nobody, could hurt you while you were with him.

“My-my parents” was all you could manage to get out, and though it wasn’t much it was like he understood. For a second his grip tightened, and he pulled you closer.

He was seething with rage, though he kept it contained for your sake, but there was nothing he wanted more than to find out where your parents lived and show them why he was a Captain. He restrained himself, for now anyways. You needed him, not his anger.

“You’re safe now, I’ve got you” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Nobody’s gonna hurt you again, love. Not while I’m here” the words were gentle, but you knew they were true. He meant it, he wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not if he could help it, and by god he was going to do everything in his power to keep you safe from now on.

“Come on” he coaxed as he pulled away from you, he could see the bags under your eyes. It was like you hadn’t slept since you left, and you probably hadn’t, but he was here to remedy that.

You grabbed your bag from the floor before you reached for his hand, his own immediately finding yours. You squeezed, and he squeezed back, before leading you down the hall. He passed your room and for a second you were confused, until you got to the common room.

The rest of the team was there, as you figured, they didn’t seem like they had any better a home life then you did, no reason for them to go back. John quietly led you over to a couch in the back, ushering you to sit down as he set the bag down next to it.

You did as you were told to, watching as John promptly sat next to you. You made quick work of leaning into his side, curling yourself into his body as he held you close. It wasn’t the easiest task, you were a military man after all so you weren’t exactly small, but that didn’t seem to matter at all.

He wrapped himself around you like it was nothing, like it was the easiest thing he had done. He rested his head on top of yours as the rest of the boys quietly resumed whatever they were doing in silent understanding. They’d all been in your position before someway or another, they knew what you were going through.

Ghost continued quietly sharpening his knives, while Soap and Gaz played a game of pool off in the corner. This was home, this was family, this was safety. With a deep, content sigh, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and let your guard down. The exhaustion hit you like a brick and within seconds you were asleep, the quiet chattering of the team behind you whole Price gently ran his fingers through your hair, pressing occasional kisses to your forehead.

You were happy to be home with your family, finally.

As always, requests are open

[layla4567]

Hello there! I love your May The Force Be With You so much that I am requesting one! Here’s mine: The reader calms Cal down when he is using the Dark Side (During Jedi Survivor near the end when he’s chocking Lan Denvick) but you choose the reader calms him down.

oki doki!

I'm right here

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Fem reader Summary: Cal seeks revenge by using the dark side of the force against the hidden base of the Imperial Security Office. You arrive just in time before he does something crazy Warnings: Blood, violence, fight, chocking, spoilers of jedi survivor, angst but fluff ending kinda (If I forget something let me know) A/N: This is my first request, sorry for the delay, btw I had to research the game to write this lol

Cal walked with sure and furious steps towards the base, wielding his saber that now shone bright red ready to attack anyone who crossed his path. The red light contrasted with his green eyes and gave him a menacing look, Cal wanted revenge, to avenge the death of his friends and his seething anger toward embracing his dark side. You stayed on the ship praying that nothing bad happens to him or that he doesn't cause a lot of blood to flow. You understood Cal more than anyone and how painful it is to lose a loved one, especially when they had already lost someone before.

Finding Lank Denvik sitting behind a command desk, Cal approached him with BD1 slung over his shoulder. The redhead's gaze showed no compassion or patience.

"Cak Kestis"-Lank said

"Listen carefully, deactivate the alarm system now"

"Or what? You're a Jedi, I know what you're capable of and what you're not capable of."

Denvik took out a blaster that he had hidden but Cal was faster and took it out of his hands thanks to the force. The freckled man took out his own gun without stopping pointing it at him.

"On the comms. Now"-The redhead said impatiently and intimidatingly, knowing that one mistake and he would just have to pull the trigger.

After deactivating the alarm Cal explained that he was there because of Bode, and saying that he found him thanks to a tracker. Unsurprised, Lank, as if accustomed to her pathetic carelessness, simply casually commented that Bode's reports indicated that the two of them had become quite close since Coruscant. Cal's gruff expression softened slightly as he lowered his gun slowly, something in his brain clicking, as if his gears had been set into motion.

"You were the one who sent him to infiltrate my team.."

"That's right, he was my weapon for a long time, he was very effective. Not like those armored idiots in the inquisitorious"

"So it's true, Cere died because of you"-Cal's gaze became hard as steel again as he gritted his teeth.

Lank leaned forward in his seat. "No, there are still months until Operation Jedha"

"You're lying!"-The redhead used force by clenching his fist to push Lank's back against his seat and immobilize him.

"The empire burned the archives led by Darth vader!!"

"Lord Vader? I have to stop this while I can"

The man approached the commandos again but Cal extended his hand firmly and pushed him back again in anger.

"Don't you understand? He lured you here to destroy me! They're coming! I'll be a dead man unless-"

The redhead clenched his jaw, tired of listening to him speak, without thinking twice he drew his fist towards his chest and Lank's head hit the table making a thud. Cal looked at him with a sullen expression, the only thing he felt was displeasure for that man. With his black inquisitor suit, to go unnoticed, he decided to head towards where Bode was always with his droid at his side. When she arrived she saw Bode's daughter Kata packing her bags, the little girl explained that that was what her father had told her to do because they were supposedly going on a trip. At that moment Bode entered the room, when he saw Cal his muscles tensed, the redhead took a step with a predatory look in his pupils but Bode extended his hand in a stop sign and explained his past. That he was a Jedi Knight assigned as an undercover agent during the Clone Wars. Bode also talked to him about how he met his wife and they had Kata and the deal with Denvik. Cal let his guard down a little at Bode's story but that was his only mistake. Using force, Bode pushes him making him fall on his back and escapes with Kata and the compass alerting the imperials.

Cal, flushed with anger and with dilated pupils, leaves the room without being able to stop Bode and his daughter, just at that moment dozens of imperials are preparing to shoot him. Cal wields his saber embracing the dark side and faces the soldiers, dodging and blocking each blow while with his red saber he cuts the armor and flesh of the Imperials. He is an unstoppable beast, like an enraged bull he cuts the skin and impales several imperials without much difficulty, the desire for revenge and anger moves him as if he were carried away by a wave or ocean currents. Memories of all the people he received love from and then lost came to his mind. He no longer knew how to differentiate between anger and sadness, a whirlwind of emotions debated inside him but an emotion stronger than the others surfaced and won everything. Hatred.

Meanwhile in the Mantis

You and Greez were waiting for Cal to finish his mission. Since you were used to fighting you already had your uniform and your blaster on your belt, you nervously felt it to know it was still there. Greez reassured you by telling you that Cal knew how to defend himself and that he would be fine, but Cal knowing how to defend himself is exactly what worried you. Many times you had seen him succumb to the dark side of the force and you had to hug him so that he would return to the light, you hoped that this time it would be different, that Cal would not make too big a massacre. But you couldn't blame him, if he were you you would have done the same, he was just hurt and he needed to somehow vent those feelings into something to make sure Cere's death wasn't in vain.

Suddenly a roar and screams shook the Mantis and made the ground vibrate. You two had to hold on to your seats to keep from falling to the ground. You looked at Greez with concern and fear, you had to get out of there as soon as possible. After the tremor passed you jumped up from your seat and headed towards the exit of the ship. Greez stopped you screaming

"Wait! where are you going!?"

"I need to find Cal, he's the one causing this."

You adjusted the blaster to your belt and were about to leave when he grabbed your arm firmly, you turned to look at him with a frown.

"No, no no wait! Don't do anything stupid. Trust him"

You removed his hand with a distressed gesture.

"You don't understand, he is in contact with the dark side, he has no self-control. I am the only one who can stop him!"

Before Greez could say anything you jumped off the ship, landing on one knee on the cold floor of the base and ran like hell. Greez yelled something at you but you didn't listen, all you thought about was finding him. You ran and ran with your hair flying in the wind wishing it wasn't too late. At your sides there were imperialist soldiers on the ground dead and bleeding, you looked away in horror.

"Please don't let it be late"-you prayed in a low voice without stopping running

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Cal continued massacring soldiers, he was breathing heavily and his hair had stuck to his sweaty forehead from the effort. The lightsaber gave off red sparks like fire and hummed with every cut and movement, the freckled man did not notice the fatigue, the hatred and aberration he felt was like pure adrenaline injected into his veins and drove him to continue attacking no matter what. When there was no more imperial, Cal, breathing like a rearing horse, deactivated his saber. You were still running around the corpses when you finally saw him, you felt your heart beat out of your chest and with slight relief you trotted towards him. Cal saw you and a look of surprise wrinkled his forehead, he didn't expect to see you there.

"Cal!"

You shouted his name as you quickly approached him with a small smile and great relief, at least he was still alive. You were not even a meter away when your smile faded and with horror you saw how Denvik was approaching Cal from behind with a blaster in his hand.

"Watch out behind you!!"

The redhead already saw it coming, so returning to his sullen and enraged gesture, he unsheathed his saber and blocked the shots with ease while he attracted Lank with the use of force, preventing him from moving. Cal raised his saber and held it tightly dangerously close to the man's neck, the red glow shining on Cal's face and giving him a menacing look. You closed the distance between you and Cal and came to stand close to him at his side, scared of what he might do.

"Come on Jedi, if you're going to kill me, do it now. Do it!!"

But Cal had other plans. He put his saber away and raised his clawed hand, levitating Lanken as he writhed and put his hands on his neck, coughing. Cal was choking him.

"Cordova, CERE! THEY ARE DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!! And now you're going to pay for it..."

Lank was beginning to cough and gasp for air, his face was turning slightly purple while his eyes wanted to pop out of their sockets.

"Cal, enough is enough..!"

Your cries of fear and anguish were words inaudible to Cal as if they had been carried away by the wind. He couldn't listen or even reason, he only had eyes to see Lanken die, the man who made him suffer so much and took away his friends, his family. Cal's gaze fell on the man's face as it went from violet to pinkish red, and a slight grimace of satisfaction crossed the redhead's lips for a moment. Cal seemed to enjoy his suffering, using force was much more pleasant than if he had impaled him with his saber, a slow and painful death was what Lanken deserved. You, horrified, placed a hand on Cal's tense shoulder, hoping he would listen.

"Cal listen to me, I'm here, please don't do it. Don't become a murderer like him."

Cal didn't seem to listen, he just kept seeing his enemy, you tried to attack from the other side.

"Do you really think this is what Cere or Cordova would have wanted? Prove that you're better than him."

You grabbed the freckled man's cheek, forcing him to look at him. He looked back at you, blinded by fury, but you didn't care.

"Cal look at me, this won't make them come back, please come back to me, I'm begging you"- you cried.

The redhead's face softened and he released Lanken who fell abruptly to the ground while holding his chest and coughing and retching. For a moment Cal seemed to come back to himself, as if a blindfold had been removed from his eyes and his gaze softened, once again showing that sweet and gentle look that made his green eyes shine with heavenly intensity. He looked around as if seeing it for the first time, realizing the damage he did, feeling a little guilty under the sad sight, you approached him and rested your forehead against his, grabbing his cheeks gently.

"It's okay, it's over"

You rubbed your forehead against his like horses would and then hugged him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck, not wanting to let him go again. He sighed, holding you and he relaxed his body as if you had lifted a great weight off of him. As you slowly peeled yourself away from the hug, you noticed that his eyes were watering. You tenderly wiped away the tears that surrounded his cheek with your thumb. You understood Cal's pain more than anyone and you didn't want him to suffer alone because he wasn't alone, and he never was. You gave him a sweet kiss on the lips to reassure him and assure him that you would always be by his side supporting him and then feeling slightly better he gave you a shy smile, the one you missed seeing so much.

"Let's go back to the ship, Greez must be worried"

You told him as you placed a hand on his back and you both walked tiredly towards the Mantis.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #1

A/N: Wow! Hard to believe we're already back to October, it feels like Whumptober 2023 was just a few months ago. This piece is a little shorter and less complete than a lot of my fills have been in the past, which is something you might see more of this month. I'm really wanting to avoid burnout this year, and am also trying to break through some of my perfection paralysis. So that means writing what I can and not being too hard on myself! (:

xxx search party

When trying to enlist the aid of local authorities, it's always a toss-up whether they're going to help willingly or circle their wagons. In small towns like this one, it tends to be the latter. More often than not, they see federal agents as nothing more than government lackeys, over-reaching and meddling in things they couldn't possibly understand. So Scully was a little surprised that Sheriff Walters readily agreed to form a search party to comb the hilly woods at the edge of town.

Perhaps she shouldn't be, though, considering one of his deputies is the reason they don't know where in the hundred acres of forest Mulder is.

He was doing his job, Scully reminds herself. The young officer had just been following his training; she can hardly blame him for that.

Her mind flashes back to that scene, hours ago now though it somehow feels like it's only been a few minutes and also an eternity.

"Where is Agent Mulder?" Her voice, raised to a raw shout as she stands with her weapon raised, hoping that she won't have to use it because doing so could mean losing him. Losing Mulder.

"Agent Scully?" The young deputy, calling out to her as he enters the house. She ignores him.

"Tell me where he is!"

The man, appearing to lose some of his resolve. Looking like he might actually relent.

"Okay. But I have something for you first."

The deputy, rounding the corner just as the man is reaching for something behind his back.

"Freeze!"

And the man. The man just keeps reaching, and Scully turns to the deputy with wide, desperate eyes, but by the time she yells, "Don't!" his finger is already tightening on the trigger. A crack. Blood blooming across the man's chest, and even as she rushes forward and puts her hands over the wound to try and stop the bleeding, to try and get an answer out of him, she knows it won't do any good. The deputy was a damn good shot.

"Agent Scully?"

Scully startles, pulled from the memory, and looks up at the sheriff. "Yes?"

"I was just saying that we've been at it several hours now with no luck and, well. Maybe we should wrap this up for now, get some rest, then make a plan and come back at it--"

"We keep looking," Scully interrupts. "It's already getting cold out here and the temperature is only going to keep dropping. Mulder isn't dressed for the weather. If we wait, it could be too late. We keep looking."

Sheriff Walters's face pinches into a slightly pained-looking expression, but he just nods. "Yes, ma'am."

She hates this. She hates how Mulder always seems to find danger, or else it finds him. She hates the seething anger that simmers no matter how much she tells herself the deputy didn't have a choice. She hates how scared she is, and more than anything else she hates the doubt that sits heavily at the back of her mind.

The sound of distant shouts makes her heart rate spike, and she looks up sharply, hope and fear mingling as she starts moving toward the noise.

"What's going on?" she asks an officer as she gets closer.

"I'm not sure, exactly, but I think one of the dogs found something. Could be--"

Scully doesn't let him finish before she's breaking into a sprint, crashing through the undergrowth. There are several officers crowded in one spot. Heads turn as Scully approaches, and the officers part to let her through.

Her heart sinks.

"Oh, god, Mulder."

He's lying at the base of a large tree, bound at the wrists and ankles, his arms behind his back. There's dirt and blood on his too-pale face. Scully is on her knees in a second, two fingers pressed to his neck. His skin is cool to the touch, and his pulse, when she finds it, is fast. But he's alive. He's alive.

"Somebody come get these ropes off of him," she commands. Nobody moves, and she turns. "Come on!" Then, quieter, "It's okay, Mulder. I'm here. Everything's gonna be okay."

xxx

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Confusing Cruising - Chapter 5 (last chapter)

Astarion's pissed - seething with rage, really - since his abusive ex-boyfriend/boss/most influential lawyer in Baldur's Gate had taken everything from him. So, naturally, he self-medicates by drowning himself in work and running on the treadmill. While at the gym, he sees a cute guy and decides to have some fun. Nothing serious, of course... And Astarion's fucked.

Trigger warning (18+): Alternative Universe - Modern Setting, No Magic, No Vampire, No Wizard, Graphic Description of Sex, Smut, Anal Sex, Anilingus, Fingering, Rimming, Switching, Cum Eating, Past Abuse, PTSD, Unhealthy Anger Management, Food Aversion, Gale's Low Self-Esteem, Exercise instead of Therapy (don't try this at home, kids), (Failed) Cruising, Car Sex (Author strongly advises against this irl) Hand Creme as Lube (Don't try this at home kids), Lawyer!Astarion, Professor!Gale, Dissociation

"Must I?"

"You must. I promised Jen to bring her the breakfast set we've made in the pottery class," retorted Lae'zel with a finality to her words that didn't leave room for arguments. "I obviously wanted to do it myself, but I received a short-term call from a client and have to meet with them."

"On a Saturday?" grumbled Astarion.

"On a Saturday," nodded his best friend. "Now go."

She shooed him out of the apartment and Astarion, with a heavy sigh, carried the cardboard box to his car, and drove off, music blaring through the speakers.

"It keeps on giving me chills,

but I know now.

I feel the closer we get

to the last bow,

I don't wanna end like this

but the sting in the way you kiss

me, something within your eyes

said it could be the last time

'fore it's over."

He truly was shit out of luck because instead of Jen Gale answered the door.

"Astarion? What are you doing here?" he asked, surprise written all over his face and the addressed suppressed a groan.

"I'm Lae's delivery boy, obviously, and bring Jen her ceramic ware. Can you get her for me?"

"I'd love to, but Jen's at the vet with Scratch. Apparently, he snatched some chocolate from the kitchen counter. It's worrisome because he's never done it before."

"Ah, I see..." muttered Astarion, standing there like an idiot. Gale took a step back, holding the door open.

"Please, come in. I'd be an awful host if I'd let you freeze to death in front of my home. Plus, Lae'zel would kill me."

"She would," chuckled the addressed and stepped into the warmth. He was greeted by the smell of home-made cinnamon buns and pumpkin soup. To Astarion's mortification, his stomach growled.

"Would you like a cinnamon bun? They're fresh out of the oven and still warm. I just wanted to make a cappuccino for myself. Care to join me?" Gale asked, looking hopeful. He was too sweet, it was killing Astarion.

"Why not. I have time," the latter shrugged, kicking his boots off and dropping his coat onto the bench in the hallway. He followed Gale into the kitchen and leaned against the counter to watch the other man prepare two perfect cappuccinos. Astarion took a bun from the cooling rack to sample it. It was heaven. He moaned loudly, a bit lewdly on purpose, to see the other man's reaction.

"Is there anything you can't do?" Astarion blurted out and immediately turned pink. Gale laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Trust me, there are a lot of things I'm not talented at."

"That's difficult to believe," replied the lawyer, a small smile tugging on his lips as he watched the professor turn crimson due to the compliment. They lapsed into comfortable silence while drinking their coffees and eating some of the buns.

"Astarion, would you mind if -"

"About our situation -"

They'd talked at the same time again and laughed about it. It was comfortable, almost domestic, safe even. Astarion placed his cup in the dishwasher and said: "Go first, darling."

"Alright, what I wanted to say is..." Gale drifted off nervously. "Back in the car after - you know. You never gave me an answer regarding a date. I - It's fine if you don't want to, but please be honest with me. I can't stand it any longer to live without knowing."

"But isn't it nice not to know?" retorted Astarion, the familiar anxiety churning his stomach. "Isn't it nice not to label things? It's... it's just 'us'."

Gale worked his jaw without replying and Astarion realised how terrible Gale's silence felt. The latter added his cup to the dishwasher and closed it before speaking.

"Okay. Okay, so, it's 'us' then. Does that mean we're -" Gale sighed noisily, frustration clear on his face. Astarion started panicking. He couldn't lose him, couldn't hurt him. The latter would be even worse, and he realised with a sudden clarity that he'd fallen for Gale. The cute guy in hideous workout clothes. A hysteric laugh bubbled up and out of Astarion. He was fucked, utterly and thoroughly.

"Please, don't make fun of me," sighed Gale, looking tired.

"I'm not, but I had a plan, you know? A nice, simple plan. It should have been a one-time thing to regain control over my sex life, but instead... instead I fell for you. Harder than I ever fell before. Fuck me and my nice, simple plan, eh?"

Gale blinked at him, shocked and surprised.

"You -"

He cut himself off and pulled Astarion into a desperate kiss instead. Cinnamon, coffee, and the taste of simply Gale. How wonderful, how perfect. Astarion moaned into his mouth, holding onto the other man's shoulders. More, more, he needed more.

"Bedroom," he panted and then groaned when Gale grabbed his ass to pull him closer.

"Over there."

They stumbled down the corridor and into Gale's room. There was no time to look around properly, but Astarion still got a good eyeful of books that were stacked everywhere. Carefully, Gale took off Astarion's glasses and set them on the bedside table. They started undressing, but Astarion hesitated. Of course, Gale - sweet, kind Gale - noticed.

"Is everything okay? We can stop if you want."

"No! No, that's not it. It's -" Astarion huffed in frustration. "Before we broke up, my ex and I had a fight and he - he pushed me and I fell onto and through a glass table. It left scars and they're not pretty."

For a second, Gale was quiet, probably processing what he'd just heard. Still, it made Astarion anxious and he started fidgeting. Then, finally, Gale said: "I see. If it makes you more comfortable, you can leave you're sweater on. But that's for your own comfort, because I don't mind your scars."

At that, Astarion snorted and retorted: "You might think differently once you see them."

"No, never," replied the addressed, sounding so sincerely that Astarion almost believed him. The latter took a deep breath before pulling his sweater off. He was grateful that Gale didn't immediately demanded to see his back. Instead, he pulled him into another kiss. When they parted, the professor asked: "Do they still hurt?"

"Sometimes," Astarion admitted.

"Would you prefer if I keep my hands off them?"

God, why was this man so considerate? The sweetness of it was almost nauseating.

"It's fine," Astarion told him, trying to sound nonchalant. "I don't mind if you touch them, but don't make a big deal out of it. I hate that."

"Your wish is my command," smiled Gale, kissing him. It got heated again and they scrambled onto the bed.

"God, you're beautiful," whispered Astarion, burying his hands in Gale's loose hair.

"So are you," Gale told him sincerely.

"I'm an albino," Astarion retorted.

"That doesn't contradict my statement," Gale replied, smiling softly. The addressed snorted a laugh. Truly an unsexy sound, but whatever. More kissing followed, some grinding, but Astarion desired more.

"Lube. Please, tell me you have lube."

"In here."

Gale clumsily fumbled for the lowest drawer of the bedside table and handing the tube over. Kneeling on the bed, Astarion started to finger himself open as quickly as he could, desperate to feel Gale inside him once more. The latter watched him with bated breath, eyes big and pupils blown wide with lust. Fuck, he was attractive. Astarion couldn't wait to get his dick into him. Moaning, he pushed a third finger into himself, rocking back onto his hand.

"Do you have a towel?"

Dutifully, Gale snatched a fresh one out of his gym bag and Astarion wiped his hand on it. The former licked his lips nervously and asked: "Can I - Can you lay down, please?"

It sounded an awful lot like begging and Astarion couldn't deny Gale anything. That man had him wrapped around his little finger. The lawyer flopped onto his back, legs splayed wide and invitingly, but instead of pushing his dick into him, Gale got down on his belly and started to suck Astarion off. The latter moan loudly, throwing his head back on the pillow and trying his best to keep his hips from bucking up into that hot, talented mouth. God, why was Gale so good at this? A whine got stuck in Astarion's throat when his partner slipped two fingers into him to rub against his prostate.

"Oooh, God..." he panted, trembling and muscle clenching. Gale drew back to speak.

"Good?"

"It would be even better if you'd finally be inside me," Astarion replied cheekily. Chuckling amused, Gale pushed himself off the mattress to crawl over his partner, who slung his arm around his neck, to kiss him.

"Am I crushing you?" Gale asks worriedly.

"No, you're perfect," answered Astarion.

"I doubt that."

At that, Astarion pressed a finger to the brunet's lips.

"We really need to work on your self-esteem, darling."

The addressed frowned, retorting: "I just thought -"

"Hush now. None of that," Astarion interrupted him. "When I tell you you're perfect, then you are perfect. Got it?"

"Got it," chuckled Gale amused. Then, he slicked up his erection with some lube and entered his partner. Slowly and carefully. Astarion sighed and moaned, he'd missed this. Gale's mouth found his and Astarion's brain stuttered to a stop. All there was, was Gale. Above him, around him, in him. With a gasp, the brunet bottomed out, giving Astarion the chance to adjust. As Gale started to move, he gently cradled Astarion's face in his hands.

"You're so beautiful," he told him reverently.

"Mmmh," moaned Astarion. He'd started to drift away, his mind leaving his body, a fuzzy unconsciousness settling in his head. With his eyes on half-mast, he gazed up at Gale, but not really seeing him but through him.

"Astarion?" There was a warm hand on his cheek, a thumb stroking up and down his cheek bone. "Where are you? Come back to me. Do you want to stop?"

In an instant, the addressed was slammed back into his body at those words, feeling like he got hit with a bucket of ice water. His eyes went wide and panicked.

"No! No, I don't want to stop! I'm right here, please, don't go."

"I won't," replied Gale softly, "but you looked like you were miles away. What happened?"

A wave of shame washed over Astarion. How embarrassing to be this broken.

"I'm okay, I just... I don't know. It happens sometimes," he tried to explain. "It's not your fault. I’m just broken."

"No, you're not," Gale retorted sternly. "I don't know what exactly you’ve been through, Astarion, but I can put two and two together and conclude that it wasn't pleasant. I don't blame you and neither should you. Now, would you like to stop? We can just cuddle for a bit. If you want."

"No. I mean yes. I - I don't want to stop," Astarion got out. "But can we switch positions?"

As if it was nothing, Gale nodded immediately.

"Of course."

He carefully pulled out, and they rearranged themselves, Gale lying on his back and Astarion straddling him. The latter sunk down again, moaning, and started to ride his partner for real.

"God, Gale..." Astarion groaned, circling his hips, pulling a whine from his partner's throat who bucked up into him. It felt good, so good. Astarion was riding Gale feverishly, thigh muscles burning, skin hot and sweaty, panting open-mouthed. Gale gazed up at him heavy-lidded and wrapped his hands around Astarion's waist, fingers slipping to the back and sliding over his scars. His scars... Gale touched his bare back and Astarion didn't flinch. For the first time, his body didn't lock up and had him running head over heels. Oh, God, Gale touched his scars and it felt... good? Astarion threw his head back, arching, as he came with a loud shout, his seeds painting Gale's torso. It felt so good, he felt so good. There were tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Astarion..."

Gentle hands coaxed him to lay down onto the soft sheets, Gale's warm body right next to his. So warm, so gentle, so soft... Astarion blew out a breath he didn't realised he was holding and wrapped his arms around Gale.

"Are you okay? Do you need something?"

Someone cared about him. Finally, someone loved him.

"I'm alright, darling," mumbled Astarion. "Just give me a moment."

So, they lay there, in a gentle embrace and comfortable silence, until they'd come down from their high and had caught their breaths. Slowly, Gale was running his hand through Astarion's hair gently. The latter brushed his fingers against his partner's bearded cheek and murmured: "Gale, darling, I'd like to take you. Will you let me?"

"Yes, but... It's been a while," breathed the addressed, blushing cutely.

"Don't worry, darling. You're in good hands," purred Astarion and kissed his way down Gale's wonderful body before engulfing his dick, teasing the slit with his tongue and his hole with a finger. Gale gasped in shock, legs trembling, as his hands found their way into the white curls. Slowly and carefully, the lawyer opened his partner up, working four fingers into him. Then, he wiped away the mess before licking a stripe across the hole and up the perineum.

Gale whined loudly, jumping a bit at the touch.

"No, wait! I'm not - I'm not prepared. I -"

"Shush, darling," Astarion interrupted him. "Let me work my magic."

What a stupid cheesy line, he scolded himself as he started to eat out his partner for real. But apparently, it worked because Gale was moaning above him and pushing his ass into Astarion's face. God, he loved it. Enthusiastically, Astarion dove his tongue into Gale's hole, revelling in the loud moans and lewd whimpers he received in return. Reluctantly, he drew back to take a look at his partner. Gale was flushed from head to chest, his eyes heavy and dark, hair messy, and he was a panting, sweaty mess. Astarion couldn't get enough of him.

"Turn around, darling."

Looking embarrassed, Gale obeyed and got onto his hands and knees. Astarion admired the view and placed kisses along his partner's buttocks and spine. With a gentle hand, he guided Gale further down, encouraging him to lower his chest onto the bed. Then, he slathered some lube onto his erection and was finally able to sink into Gale. Astarion groaned as he bottomed out. The last time he'd been allowed to top had been years ago. Gale clenched around him, making Astarion groan once more.

"That's it, darling. Can I move?"

"Please."

And so, he did. Astarion tried to stay slow and gentle, he truly did, but soon, he couldn't keep the pace and his hips sped up. His thrusts got harder and faster, and Astarion felt wrecked. This cute, kind, sweet professor was his downfall, ruining him for anyone else. Gale gasped and sobbed as he was taken so thoroughly and deeply. Astarion let out a small grunt each time he thrusted in, gripping his partner's ass cheeks rough enough to bruise. It felt so fucking good. Astarion's eyes rolled back in his head as he buried himself in that perfect heat once more, lost in pleasure.

"Star, Star, please, let me - I want to see you. Please..." pleaded Gale, still face-down on the pillow. Fuck it all. Astarion threw all caution to the wind, let his partner turn onto his back and look at him fully. He felt stripped bare, Gale could see right through him. Closing his eyes as if able to keep out the onslaught of emotions this way, Astarion pushed back into his partner, their fingers linked together on the mattress on both sides of Gale's head.

"Look at me. Please..."

Astarion obeyed, God have mercy on him, gazing at that perfect man beneath him whose eyes were full of adoration. Fuck. Astarion was fucked. He captured Gale's lips in another messy kiss. The latter panted and whimpered, whining with every thrust against his prostate and clinging to Astarion's shoulders.

"Star!"

With a high-pitched cry, Gale came undone, spilling between them while tightening his legs and body around him. Astarion was hurled over the edge right then, coming deep in his partner with a guttural moan. He collapsed onto the hairy torso, delighted by the way it tickled him, and panted against Gale's neck. Lazily, the brunet slung an arm around Astarion, and again, the latter neither flinched nor felt the urge to run when his back was touched. He felt safe, loved.

"I missed this. I missed feeling good during sex." The words spilled from Astarion's lips, suddenly and against his will, but it felt right, so he continued. "I was worried, you know. That I'd run. I always did until I've met you."

He was grateful that Gale didn't voice all the questions that he was surely dying to ask and instead just kept holding him gently. Astarion pressed a soft kiss to his partner's sweaty neck and started humming.

"What's that song?" mumbled Gale.

"Dance Macabre by Ghost," the addressed answered and, despite feeling silly, sung the refrain to his partner.

"Just wanna be,

wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Just wanna be,

I wanna bewitch you all night.

Just wanna be,

I wanna bewitch you one last time in the ancient rite.

Just wanna be,

I wanna bewitch you all night."

To his relief, Gale smiled at him softly, whispering: "I'd let you, but just know that you put the stars to shame, love."

The lawyer welled up, hugged the professor closer, and kissed him.

"Gale?" Sleepy but happy eyes gazed at him. "Take me on a date."

The cold November wind was made bearable by the golden sun, the last fallen leaves crunched under their boots as they sauntered through the park.

"I'm sorry I used you as an excuse to get out of the house, Scratch. I know you're a good boy and would never eat anything from the counter," Jen told him as she rubbed underneath his ears. Scratch's tongue lolled out happily, tail wagging, not looking offended at all.

"Let's hope the boys finally come to their senses and stop talking around the bush," sighed Lae'zel. Jen grinned at her.

"Oh, I'm sure they will."

[disintegratedfingers]

Quirk: Unkown

Warnings for this chapter: None 🤷‍♀️

Chapter 3: Why a hero?

_______

"Why did you let her go?" Mom sobbed, swiping her hands over her eyes. As soon as you had left, the waterworks broke out, triggering her body. Deep anger stabbed her sides, as did your withering trust in her, sensing the betrayel you felt.

"She wanted a chance," Dad rubbed her back soothingly. He felt a speck of pride in a pool of regret; It didn't sound like his daughter passed the exam, and her confidence was broken. "I know you didn't want her to, but she's a determined kid."

"She could get herself injured- or even killed!"

"...I know," Dad nodded to himself, eyes watering. He was surer than sure that you were capable, but the nagging thoughts never left.

Heroes were stuck in a difficult gamble, and they were held responsible for many things. It wasn't easy; the career took years of experience and skill, and heroes still died. Plus, they couldn't save everyone.

'What's the point?' Your mother had wracked her brain with the same question over and over.

"There's a bright side to this, too. She could really help people..." Dad tried, earning a sniffle and shake of the head from his wife. "...I'm sorry for going behind your back."

Mom looked at him, lip trembling.

Not even a moment later, her eyes widened and her body contracted. With a groan she gingerly touched her temple as Dad grasped her other hand in deep worry.

"This is a bit much on you," he apologized. "I'll bring Dr. Cooper in-"

"Ah, it's fine," she seethed and waved a hand. "Just go. Make sure y/n doesn't get run over or something."

"...okay."

_______

Sleep came easy the night before, and you found yourself blinking it from your eyes the next morning. Groggily you sat up and reached for your phone, droopy eyed.

9:26 am

You grumbled and stood up to walk out into the kitchen. Dad was nowhere to be found.

'Probably still asleep,' you thought, rummaging around the cabinets and fridge on a hunt for breakfast. 'Nothing much. I'll pop by the store...' Usually some cereal or a protein bar would be filling, but they were all eaten now.

You left a text for Dad, telling him that you would be back soon, not expecting a reply just yet. With a breezy change of clothing, you took some cash and went out into the city.

The sound of cars and light conversation met your ears; It was comforting. And as you walked, some birds flew overhead, darting sideways at every sudden sound and movement. You could sense their simple hunger and strained caution.

That was another aspect about your quirk- you could pick up what other living things were feeling. With people you were close with, like your Dad, their emotions are more pronounced and easier to detect, especially if you are physically close to them.

But sometimes you wished you didn't have this quirk.

It was helpful when your friend cut himself with knife on accident, and you ran straight to him with a bandage, but you could feel the stinging pain in your own palm. It was pure agony at 5 years old.

Similar scenarios would occur every now and then, but you learned how to get rid of the feelings that weren't yours.

_______

Ding, ding.

You walked into a little corner store with some snacks, far from empty this morning. A few squeals from small children and faint words floated around the building as you scanned the shelves.

Granola bars, candy, instant noodles...

"Oh-uh, sorry!"

A voice sounded beside you, making you flinch slightly as your shoulder connected with another.

"My bad," you ducked your head respectfully, rising again to see the skinny... green haired...

"Hey! You're from the practical exam, right?" You peered at the boy curiously, a yellow pack slung over his shoulder. He waved his hands in the air while trying to form words.

"Oh yes," he grinned nervously. "I'm Izuku Midoriya. What a coincidence! We must live near eachother..."

"Yeah," you replied, eyeing him as you selected some packaged noodles. "I'm y/n l/n."

Midoriya hummed.

"Uh, what's your quirk?" He asked shyly, rubbing his arm with a finger. You pursed your lips.

"I'm actually not sure," you replied, slightly embarrassed. "It's not documented properly; there's not a lot of official info on it, either..."

A few beeps from the register up front struck the tense air.

"...why did you apply?" Midoriya asked, earning an odd expression from you. "Uh- I didn't mean for that to come off as rude! I just wanted to know- like-"

"It's fine," you rolled your eyes with a soft smile, returning to thought. "I guess I'm doing it for my folks, y'know?" Nothing else came to mind.

Really? Why, though? Why try at all? What motive are you set on?

"Why did you apply?" You dusted off the unease, watching as the boy tensed up. He rubbed the back of his neck while a wavering doubt and unsure wave brushed your shoulders.

"To..." He sighed, staring at the shelf. "...to make people feel safe." He smiled at you with wide, round eyes. You grinned half heartedly.

"That's a good reason."

_______

Deku hadda grab some treats for his mom's sweet tooth.

<Previous

[yanderes-galore]

hi! could i maybe request a romantic pairing scenario with prompts 57 + 58 for the scout?

Sure, I can try! Scout's team color is not mentioned at all in this. The plot is Scout forcing you to be partners/accept his confession I guess. ALSO, partially based on a Yandere Scout Chatbot conversation I had.

Yandere! Scout Prompts 57 + 58

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

"One more mistake and I may just break something."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Delusional behavior, Scout thinks you're already dating, Manipulation, Threats, Stalking implied, Forced kiss, Implied home intrusion, Implied kidnapping, Dark themes obviously, Forced relationship.

"I don't love you!" You cry, tears pricking your ears. The man in front of you hold his bat in his hands, staring down at you. You had met him merely days ago... yet here he was in your home, your window smashed to bits.

"Baby, you can say that...!" The man coos at you in a demeaning tone. He steps forward, smacking the bat into his free hand. "That's hurtful to say to your boyfriend...."

"We aren't dating!" You yell, back up again the wall. "I only met you once... I don't even know your name!"

"Well there's plenty of time to get to know me and you on our date." The young man in front of you seethes, glaring at you. "I'm getting real tired of your resistance, baby...."

"Get the hell away from me!" You scream, trying to get up and move away. Unfortunately your intruder grabs your arms and pulls you back. He could easily use the bat... but he'd rather warn you instead of hurting your beautiful skin.

The man pulls you closer, you colliding with his chest as his grip coils around you like a snake. You can sense the anger rising within him. Especially when you struggle.

"One more mistake and I may just break something." The man whispers in your ear, a threat and warning to keep you compliant. "It would be a shame if your new boyfriend had to discipline you, yeah?"

His grip tightens to the point it leaves marks. He wants you to comply. He wants you to agree to him. You glance at the bat tightly in his other hand... you can only assume what he means by the warning.

"Baby~" The man coos softly, tilting your chin up with the back of the bat. "Are you going to listen to me now? You love me, don't you?"

Fearing the bat he holds will break something vital... you nod aggressively.

The man seems pleased for a moment but nudges your chin with the bat again.

"I want you to say it."

It's all another subtle threat.

"I love you!" You answer like a parrot repeating back a phrase to their owner. The man seems pleased, overjoyed even as he holds you tighter.

"That's my baby..." The man coos before kissing you softly. It isn't anything intimate... a quick peck on the lips as a reward before pulling me away.

"You're stuck with me, like it or not." The man hums, caressing your cheek softly. "I'll treat you well... I promise ya... after all, I'm your boyfriend, right?"

You hold back the urge to sob, deciding to instead nod your head obediently to prevent injury to your person.

[anattemptatmeaning]

Meredith: First Time Caller, Long Time Listener - Chapter Three: Crystal Clear

Author's Notes (potential spoilers): My home internet is really slow, hence why this post may look a bit rough (I also stayed up til 4AM finishing and posting this on AO3 lol) and a lot of things have been going on in my personal life but I'm proud to post the third chapter of my humble story! Especially proud, considering that I'm absolutely PATHETIC with procrastination and anxiety, so being able to consistently write three chapters on something I've been working at really means a lot to me. And I got to live out my childhood fantasy of secret passageways in a Bad Times at the El Royale/Barbarian-style sequence. Definitely a two-for-one.

Chapter Theme Song: One Way or Another - Blondie (I find it really funny in the context of this chapter, it matches the dark humor of an OC you'll meet in later chapters)

Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4GV9rbpFrebDNkG3J1GGcu

Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains some graphic violence, mainly near the end, but there's slight references to it around the midway point.

Tags: @nocturnest @blingblingsparklesparkle @brittklein18 @luluartpop

Word Count: approx. 2,828

Three: Crystal Clear

The landing in Minneapolis was smooth.

Tangerine got through security with minimal effort, owing to his experience in the business and strings pulled with money to spare. The private jet used for his businessman cover, one of his favorites and most convenient, didn’t hurt.

He texted Lemon to put the bastard at ease.

🍊: Landed safe

🍋: In the belly of the beast now mate

🍊: Fuck off, all I need to do is kill one sodding cop and take a picture of him and send it to some bird

🍋: If any one person recognizes you you’re public enemy number one

🍊: Could say that about any of the other places we’ve been

🍋: Not Meredith.

Tangerine had to take a large seething breath at that point. He tried convincing himself it was just anger as always. 

🍊: Didn’t we agree never to mention that place out loud ever again?

🍋: No, we didn’t, we just stopped talking about it

🍊: Yeah well same fucking principle alright? I landed, I’m ready to do the job, that’s it, why the fuck are you acting like this?

🍋: I still don’t think you should’ve taken that job. I was already on one anyways from the fucking White Death and with where it’s looking, we won’t need one for months

🍊: We’ve already fucking discussed this

🍋: Just finish it and get home ASAP

Tangerine was about to get into another row over Lemon’s hypocrisy when he was the one trying to do his job without a complaint, but got his shit together before he could get even more sidetracked.

He checked into his hotel and went straight to unpacking. As he began hanging his suits, he realized he could not stop thinking back to his client.

She was indeed unusual. He appreciated the promptness and it was certainly a lucrative offer, but it was rare that he would get paid such a high amount, and he was usually sent after the higher-ups. Crime bosses, crooked politicians, and the like. But one measly corrupt cop? If it wasn’t for the curiously high price, arguably below his pay grade.

And it just so happened to coincide with one of the very few jobs that separated the Twins.

Tangerine pulled out his phone and scrolled to find the contact of his client, and began typing.

🍊: Oi, just to clarify, you said three million?

He gets a reply almost immediately.

🔲: Yes. 

🍊: I’m not gonna deny it’s a pretty penny, but how do you have that much, and why me, why this?

🔲: I didn’t want to bother with details. I did say it was personal. But since you asked, revenge. For my family. We’ve got quite a bit of money, and my dad left me a hefty sum in his will. I’m using the bulk of it to pay you. If the job gets finished, of course. 

The response was reasonable if irritating. He was a fucking professional for Christ’s sakes. 

And revenge was annoyingly common in his world, one of the most frequent reasons for people like him to be hired in the first place. It was all a bloody soap opera at this point. 

Tangerine prided himself on being the type not to ask questions, but skepticism won out.

🍊: Hold your horses, who do you think I am? I’m doing your dirty work for you, and I’m gonna be expecting that three mil when I get that photo.

🔲: I genuinely find that ironic. And once again? You did ask. But I think that’s quite enough chatter for a man of your…occupation, isn’t it?

Judging by what he heard of her voice, she was older than him, but came off as a pretentious fucking brat in these messages. Avoiding her bait, Tangerine turned off his phone and got to work, hacking into databases and digging up shit on Officer Geoffrey.

Officer Geoffrey was a madman. 

And he was no cop. He was Black Stone.

Black Stone had been an independent operator for quite some time, and profusely refused to work with any other, not even an agency or a handler. Quite rude too, even considering Tangerine. He flipped from being curtly professional to raving lunatic, constantly giving everyone else in the business a fucking earworm. He was also on the older, washed-up side, looking more like an alcoholic father than a threat.

Tangerine never liked Black Stone. Neither would he admit it, but he was surprisingly a rather prolific contractor, despite being in his line of work for far less time. 

It pissed him off to no end. His ruthlessness matched his reckless abandon, but there was a clear pattern to his victims: they all had committed serious misdeeds, from Blackwater affiliates who had fired on civilians to human trafficking ring leaders. 

Not that it undeterred Tangerine’s opinions of him. Self-righteousness annoyed the hell out of him, and there were plenty of “deserving” folks walking around all over the world at the end of the day. 

Besides, the Twins had worked with Blackwater several times amongst everything they had done throughout their rise to infamy. They hadn’t perished to the great Black Stone. 

Anyways, his methods were as unpredictable as he was angry. Sometimes he’d shoot a prick through their fucking ears. Other times he’d lead a whole gang into a fucking forest and burn it all down. 

Tangerine was understanding a lot more why he was being paid so much. The cop shit had to have been a cover for Black Stone’s antics, and someone had been pissed off just enough. Unsurprising. 

Well, then.

—

Tangerine tailed Officer Geoffrey’s patrol vehicle in a rental car.

He had been intercepting his field operations. Luckily for Tangerine, it wound up as a fairly mundane day. Black Stone was simply monitoring the city while writing the occasional traffic ticket. 

At some point, Geoffrey began to drive out of the Central District. Tangerine followed close behind in a rental car, occasionally darting around different roads to maintain an unsuspicious distance. 

They crossed the Wabasha Street Bridge onto the southern areas of the city. By now, Geoffrey hadn’t done anything besides driving, not even using his radio. Tangerine decided to kill him wherever he stopped. 

Eventually, Geoffrey slowed down and parked. The GPS revealed their location to be in Sunfish Lake, which looked to be a rural village with few houses around. Perfect. Tangerine pulled over just one turn away. He drove a slight distance down a wooded path before killing the engine. 

Tangerine trailed Geoffrey and quickly caught up to within a short distance of him, walking along the road and taking cover among the trees as needed. Minutes later, a multi-story house in a more open lot of land came into view. 

Fair spot for a safe house, Tangerine had to admit.

Geoffrey fished out a set of keys and entered the house. Once he closed the door, Tangerine made a beeline for the house, ducking out of the field of vision whenever Geoffrey walked in front of a window. At the door, Tangerine got out his lockpicks.

Whatever mild approval he expressed of Black Stone for his choice in refuge disappeared once he realized how fucking mediocre his locks were. Nevertheless, he quickly brushed the disappointment off. He would complain once he got home to Lemon.

Once he heard the latch click free, he swung the door open quietly yet rapidly. He closed it with one hand as he drew his revolver with the other.

The interior of the house was unremarkably normal-looking. Grey walls. Forest green tiles. A kitchen with an island, couches and a coffee table over a rug. Bookshelves, framed artwork, potted plants.  

Geoffrey hadn’t come into view, but momentarily Tangerine heard footsteps coming from upstairs. He slid behind a wall and prepared to ambush, but right as he got into position, the footsteps stopped. And never fucking came back.

Puzzled by Geoffrey’s apparent disappearance, Tangerine stepped out into the open. Still no footsteps or sound of movement. He scoured the first floor, walking down a hallway and checking every room and the garage. 

Nothing. 

Tangerine was about to venture onto the second floor when he heard what sounded eerily similar to rustling. He instinctively turned towards the sound, finger on his trigger.

Nothing?

He moved in the direction it came from, which was towards the back door. Right when he reached the door, he heard more rustling. But it sounded like it came from within the house.

What the fuck?

Tangerine briefly peeked through every room on the first floor again before walking up the stairs. The second floor was as mundane as the first. Bedroom. Bathroom. Second bedroom. Second bathroom. 

He was just walking out of the second bedroom’s closet when he noticed a weird flash in the corner of his eye. 

He wheeled around and was face-to-face with the bed. 

Tangerine squinted and walked closer to the headboard. White with three frames that looked like cupboard doors.

Doors.

He used his free hand to look for any openings between the frames and the headboard itself. When he came to the middle frame, he felt his fingers squeeze in just a bit further than with the other frames, followed by a click, and the door swinging wide open.

Under the bed was a dark, long passageway resembling a cave. And there was light at the far end. 

Forced to crawl, Tangerine got on his knees and began navigating through the dimly lit burrow. As he got closer to the light, he noticed that it came from within what appeared to be a dug-out room. 

When he saw what was inside, his jaw dropped.

There was a gigantic fucking conspiracy board filled to the brim of him. Of everything about him. There were photos of him ranging all the way back from when he got his start in the business, his teenage years, to his most recent job. He should have gotten rid of the security camera footage by the time he got home.

And yet.

Newspaper clippings of his jobs, all covered up by the various agencies and criminal organizations by the time they hit the headlines. Portraits of his targets, in live and mangled body form. Snapshots of all the cities he’s worked in, including some uncomfortable close-ups on buildings he recognizes. The inevitable trail of red string connected all of them together in perfect chronological order from what he could remember.

Underneath the board was a long desk. On both sides of it were supercomputers, with a more general-purpose desktop on a smaller desk next to it. There were even more articles dedicated to him, scattered across the vast piles of documents he thought no longer existed. Burner phones he discarded. Cameras of the surveillance kind. Safe house keys. 

This time, what he noticed the most was a garish handwriting in a darkened, oft-putting shade, trailing all over most of the torn sheets of paper. He knew it wasn’t blood, but a distinct putrid odor emitted from the questionable ink he couldn’t quite place. It just felt unnatural.

The writing itself, in bold, large capital letters, spelt NOTHING IS FORGOTTEN.

He picked up one of the sheets of paper and noticed the deranged writing covered a past contract he signed. 

Fuck the job, Black Stone was going to fucking answer for this.

Coming out of the room, he was again bathed in the darkness of the cave as he crawled back to the bed.

Wait, didn’t he leave the door open—

His head bumped against what was certainly the wood of a frame.

That didn’t budge.

He tried pushing against the door as hard as he could, eventually resorting to punching it with his brass knuckles, but for whatever reason, the door did not move an inch. Someone on the other end had to have been holding it in. It was like it had been fucking sealed.

He caught another flash at the corner of his eye and saw that more light had now appeared in the opposite direction. Cursing under his breath and realizing he was forced to find another exit, he crawled all the way to the other side.

There was another ladder leading up to a circular door, looking the same as the one he originally took. The door was easy to open - all he needed to do was push - and spit him out right on a lot of open land. The door was covered by grass, and he noticed a keyhole. It had been unlocked.

Almost directly in front of him was a large white mansion. It easily surpassed Geoffrey’s house by about three times in size. The main entrance had three large wooden doors and wide platform stairs leading up to the front door. 

Two of which were wide open.

Tangerine seethed and quickly barged through the entrance. He was done with Black Stone’s games. 

As soon as he fully stepped inside, both open doors rapidly slammed shut behind him, causing him to flinch. All the blinds were closed in the house, giving the atmosphere a dim, shadowy atmosphere.

Tangerine tried looking out the small windows of the door, but they were built in a kaleidoscope style, the panes seemingly divided into dozens of protruding bumps of glass, making it difficult to see anything. There were no moving shapes, or even shadows from under the door that gave away an outside presence. 

“Fucking bullshit,” Tangerine muttered with half a mind to beat the piss out of whoever showed up, Black Stone or no. Then he heard something akin to a glass shattering from inside the house. He drew his revolver. 

The nearest window smashes to pieces as a figure crashes through the glass to tackle him to the ground.

With a roar of exertion from the sheer frustration of the day, Tangerine puts all his strength in kicking the person off, but they grab hold of his legs and use their fucking body weight to slam him back down. 

Tangerine hits the floor face first, and it’s instantly met with a deep, heavy punch to the back of his head, causing his nose to make full contact with the ground, signaled by the sound of something surely breaking. 

Letting out a furious groan, Tangerine jabs an elbow upward, only slightly connecting with his attacker but connecting nonetheless, and he attempts to follow through with a jab of his own. Said attacker - whose weight had become suspiciously light - only captures his arm in a deathly grip and slams his legs onto Tangerine’s upper body, pushing his head with a now-damaged nose into the floor again with a louder crunch - make that two, as the attacker was pulling his arm back relentlessly far. 

Tangerine let out a guttural cry of pain as his arm was broken, proceeded by his elbow as the bastard had the nerve to suddenly reverse the lower part of his arm in a 180-degree angle. He had dealt with broken limbs before, he was a fucking assassin, but this was particularly inconvenient. 

His quick-thinking of how to adapt to his incapacity was rudely interrupted when the bastard slams a fist in his face, the sensation of pain arising from the broken nose clouding his judgment. A punch to his stomach then the next to his chest knocks the wind out of him. 

Tangerine could now clearly recognize the figure. Black Stone, his tall, lanky figure and his messy dark hair. Most of all, he saw that he was pissed beyond belief. His eyes told the story of a flurry of emotions: rage most obviously, and something involving sadness. 

Tangerine doesn’t get to take advantage of his emotions the way he usually would’ve as Black Stone slams him from wall to wall, then punches him through the cheek, his fist reaching his lips. He begins to feel the same sensation of pain from his nose in his mouth, and is only able to see two of his teeth on the ground before he is practically dragged by the neck without concern for potential choking. His attempt at breaking off is met with a kick to his knees and yet another punch to the shoulder, rendering it nigh dislocated. 

Shortly, he feels Black Stone throw him to the floor, now carpeted. Tangerine was about to fight through the pain to rip him a new one when he noticed dozens of people. Then hundreds. They were at the back of the house now, and he could see into the sizable lot of land through the back door that people surrounded them from all sides. 

People he recognized. No, people he knew - or knew him, rather. 

And standing closest to him were the survivors of the Meredith Elementary School bombing. 

"You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise." -Maya Angelou