#There's also suggestive talk about suicide so take care of yourself

[cherry-leclerc]

don’t lock the door ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, humor, smut, angst, thriller/suspense, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of homicide, erotic literature, tragedy

word count: 9k

An oleander is beautiful—yet deadly. You’re beautiful—yet deadly. But Carlos has always been gentle, and has always known how to take care of things he loves. And even if he doesn’t, he’s willing to learn, just for you. But you can’t outrun secrets. Not when they have everything to do with the only thing he adores—you.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... fingering, riding, car sex

STOP AND READ:

The story you are about to read is not meant to be admired or looked up to. Regularly, the types of fics that I like to present to all of you are light, humorous, and sweet. While I feel that this story does have occasional glimpses of that, it also deals with heavy topics such as; suicide, depression, and homicide. At the end of the day, I care about all my readers, so if any of you feel like this is not something for you then you are always welcomed to head over to my masterlist for much lighter reads. You all know me by now, so you must know that sometimes I like to mix a story of traditional love with a dash of real life struggles, such as trauma and guilt, in this case. With that, I hope you enjoy word for word.

cherry here!...did you miss me????

Tension is normally one’s enemy. It’s fairly simple, you try your best to avoid what makes your skin crawl. Isn’t that how the story goes?

Not quite. 

There’s tension, yes, but it's only because you’re the opposite sex. Nothing beyond that. It could also be because you’re both introduced to each other as a pair of miserable singles. Lewis is the person you share in common.

She’s a close friend, he proclaims as you two shake hands. The touch is sticky, just like hot glue— and for a minute—it feels like a knife cuts this invisible strain in half. He lets himself salivate over your lioness stare; dark, sharp, amorous. You lean towards him just the same; dominant, mature, suggestive.

I’ve seen you race.

He hums, still attached to your desirable touch. Yeah? Why haven’t I seen you then?

Fingers press sternly against his warm skin, as if to provoke him more than he already feels himself falling into. It should be alarming the way his mind slips into a frenzy because of it, but likes it. The rush. 

Maybe because I wasn’t rooting for you.

There. Right then, he disconnects. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.

You grin. Well, now you know. 

“You know what? Mingle—”

“Who says mingle?” you and Carlos question at the same time, judgemental eyes staring coldly. 

Lewis blushes. “I-I-Is that not a thing anymore?” Silence. “Fuck, I really am getting old...”

The night consists of mimosas, because according to you, it reminds you of your late-mother. “She liked something fruity, but also fun enough to make her head spin. It was entertaining to watch.”

“How so?”

“She’d ramble on and on. Slurred about her dreams.” A sad smile. “That’s the only reason why I ever found out she wanted to become an author. She was fifty—five decades too old—but she said she wanted one last adventure before retiring. It didn’t even matter if she made it onto the New York Times Best Seller list.”

The way your eyes even out, round and almost doughy, makes him trip for a second because this is not the same girl he shook hands with nearly three hours ago. No, this version of you was almost childlike, but he supposes that's how everyone who loses a parent becomes. 

It comes out shy—closed off—your laugh. As if you just caught yourself being too vulnerable. That was always the worst. “Look at me making you my therapist. I have got to stop doing that.” 

His mouth opens lamely, ghostly scoff sitting upon his lips. And if it were to be released, it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. It was a weird thing to note. “I like hearing you talk.”

A beat. “We’ve only just met.”

Carlos grins, crinkles tracing the corner of his eyes like some beauty. “Then let's meet some more.”

The opportunity is there, the kind you’ve been looking for. With a sheepish smile, you nod. “I should warn you though, I’m a bit of a mess.”

Finally, the scoff escapes. And like envisioned, you laugh at the sound.

“Consider me warned.”

-

He fucked you that same night in the back of his car. It was late, so dark that you barely even had the chance to register the fact that you squirted all over his vintage Ferrari. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he pants as he snaps his hips up again, fast motion making you head loll bad. You wonder what he means, but as soon as his long fingers circle your swollen bud, you’re just as good as gone.

He asked you out an hour later, when he dropped you off right in front of your apartment. You happily accepted, unable to hide your excitement. 

Your smile falters. “Give me a reason as to why I should say yes.”

“Um, well, you sort of already said…yes?”

The confusion that settles onto his handsome features makes you glow with satisfaction. “I could always change my mind. Pretend this night never even happened.”

Panic rushes harshly against his shoulders. He doesn’t even know why he cares so much, but he does. 

Vulnerability is a bitch. 

“Huh,” he hums, relaxing against his seat, head hitting the expensive cushion. And you can see it. The challenge. He clicks his tongue, bored all of a sudden. “Listen, I want you, but I certainly don’t need you.”

You realize right there and then—you met your match. 

You realize right there and then—you two share the same green pride. 

You realize right there and then—

“It was nice getting to know you.” 

-

The only reason you’re even friends with someone like Lewis is because your mother married rich.

Filthy fucking rich. 

Then, somehow, married richer by her third and last marriage. The man was twisted, but you never knew just how much. Not for a very long time. 

He dabbled in stocks, or some boring shit like that, and later invested in some other crap. Somewhere along the line, you met the Brit. 

The same Brit who now hisses at you through the phone. 

“God damn it, what happened? Weren’t you two getting along?”

You sigh, rubbing your feet together as you admire the way the navy blue paint covers your pedicured nails. Stormy clouds match your mood as you shake the bottle of pills that lay on top of your desk. 

“He’s too vain.”

He groans. “You my dear, dear friend, are looking into a mirror then, I suppose.”

A sharp gasp. “Are you insinuating I’m the same?”

“If the shoe fits…”

“May I remind you that you sit and stare at yourself for God knows how long before any race? Newflash, dickhead, you’re going to sweat, look like shit, and one out of ten times, you’re going to win.”

“I see I triggered something.” He sighs heavily. The sound tells you he’s not really upset or anything, but more so worried. Ever since she died, you’ve been that way. 

Snappy. Defensive. 

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I know you.” 

And although he can’t see, you still smile fondly. Rattling the bottle of antidepressants, you inch up higher and higher onto your chair until you face your own reflection. Shattered glass stares back at you as you feverishly look down. 

“Do you still have an extra pass to this weekend's race?”

-

There had to be something wrong with you. Everyone could tell, and quite frankly, you could agree. Would you admit to it out loud? No, now that’s something different. Or maybe you’re just odd. That would also make sense. Whatever it was, it would explain as to why everyone around you screams with excitement as the fast cars fly by. You, on the other hand, simply stare with straight lips and empty eyes.

While all clap cheerfully when Lewis finishes on the third step, you cross your arms. While everyone runs out of the Mercedes garage to declare front row, you drag your feet slowly to the last. 

While Carlos makes eye contact as he lifts his trophy—notably bigger than the Brits—you yawn.

You’re not impressed.

She’s not impressed, the Spaniard remembers thinking to himself as he smiles wider towards the stacks of cameras that turn him temporarily blind. He selfishly thinks you’re here for him, but he knows that's straight bullshit. Truth be told, it didn’t seem like you were here to support your friend either.

“It’s been so long,” Lewis huffs in disbelief as you stare across with vacant eyes. To him, you’re simply jetlagged. “Can you believe it?”

An exhale. “You did good.” Extending your legs outward, you admire the black tiles that shine back brighter than if it were to be white. “Drinks. On me.”

The Brit laughs. “Deal.”

-

Somewhere close by, they play jazz. 

“Pretty,” you softly speak as you connect your lips to the glass. The live band sways back and forth, only adding to the charm you seem to like. And you like it a lot. “Dance with me.”

Lewis snickers. “I love you to death, but I’m gonna have to go with no.”

You frown. “Come on. I never ask you for anything.”

“You were born with a golden spoon and have used retinol since you were ten, you’re not allowed to ask for anything when you’ve already had everything.”

“Yeah…well not this.” You’re secretly envious of every lady in the room. The way they beam with sincere smiles at their husbands. Boyfriends? Flings? Affairs? Who cares honestly, you were jealous nonetheless. 

The Mercedes driver watches as your fingers lazily tap against your lap, as if signaling you’re free. Guilt slithers down his neck as he sighs in defeat. “Fi–”

“Nice seeing you two here.”

Lewis wants to cry with utter thankfulness as Carlos inches closer with a lousy grin. “Hey! Oh God—hey.” You blink. “Wh-what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, of course, because I’m not.”

The Spanirad shrugs. “I won. Wanted to celebrate, I suppose.” Brown eyes flicker towards you like thunder and suddenly you feel naked under his gaze. You swallow. “You look nice.”

And there it is again—tension.

He cocks his head to the side, almost as if waiting for a compliment of your own. Instead, he finds himself being ignored. Crossing your legs, you lift the empty glass up as the bartender hurries for a refill. 

Finally, Lewis speaks up. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay—”

“Who says hay?” you and the brunette spit out with snarkiness. You bite back a smile while he releases a chuckle. 

The Brit stands up, chugging the rest of his drink as he waves you two off. “I’m not that old,” he shouts as he turns the corner and disappears. 

Carlos takes the time to catch up on your appearance. Last time he saw you, you had longer hair, now it appears you’ve had a trim. He likes it. You were slightly tanner, but now appear a shade lighter. It could just be because it’s winter. It's nice seeing other versions of you. 

“So, how have you be—”

“Why are you still here?”

He freezes. It takes him a while to find the strength to open his mouth. 

“We never finished our conversation.”

-

He didn’t fuck you that night, no, he took you dancing. And maybe that’s why it worked this time around. Instead of taking the time to learn all the different types of moans you have, he took the time to learn all about your upbringing. 

I learned how to bike when I turned six. Had severe trust issues for a year, so I tried again when I was seven.

That must be where your scars are from, he thinks to himself, but he finds them endearing.

I like long hair, I find it beautiful, but as soon as it’s starting to grow out I think it looks too weird on me. 

That must be why your hair is shorter than he remembers, but he loves it. Has the urge to run his fingers through.

My favorite movie is How Harry Met Sally, but quite frankly, I don't find Harry attractive at all, so I never really understood why Sally settled down with him after so long.

And you’re honest. Brutally honest. And he finds that attractive.

“How about you, Mr. Singapore?”

I learned how to kart before I learned how to bike, actually. I, too, have scars on my hands from small crashes. 

You blush as you hide yours beneath your coat. 

I have two sisters, so I mainly learned how to dance because of them. I hated it at the time, but now I’m quite grateful.

Is it possible to swoon harder?

And I don’t have a favorite film, necessarily, but I’ve watched How Harry Met Sally, and I would agree. Sally was too good looking for him. 

You have to laugh. “Is that so?”

He smiles. “The name Harry sounds so…” He winks cooly before running a hand through his locks. You giggle. “He looks more like a Bob.”

“Oh my God! Could you imagine? How Bob Met Sally?” You pause. “Wait, that actually doesn’t sound half bad…”

He chews on his bottom lip slowly, nodding in agreement. Silence engulfs you two as you stare at each other with round eyes. He’s the first to crack a loopy grin and you quickly follow with a sheepish one. Then, it vanishes and he’s left looking like he swallowed a frog.

“Listen, about last time…”

“Long forgotten.”

He halts, almost surprised by your response. “No, no, there’s no need to pretend, I was a—”

“Jerk?”

The Spaniard rolls his eyes. “Great, so you haven’t forgotten.”

You shrug. “I’m a girl. We remember everything.”

“Got it,” he declares. “Ask me again.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze. “What?”

“Ask me why you should say yes to a date with me.”

“You don’t have to do this, we’re good—”

“I know we are, but I still want you to ask.”

You lick your lip anxiously before relaxing your stiff shoulders. He tilts his head as if urging you and you nod. “Why should I say yes to you?”

Satisfaction settles. “Because you like a good challenge.” He leans closer. “And isn't that what this is?”

-

Carlos Sainz Jr. was made for you.

“Leave me alone,” you scream, veins throbbing, as you rush past him, heading towards the guest room. You’re glad his parents aren’t home at the moment because Lord knows the embarrassment you would feel.

“No. Not until you talk to me.” As simple as that. Your eyes twitch as you turn back, then bring your hands up to your hips. He adores it when you do that, though he probably shouldn’t right now.

“You want to talk?” You let out an unhinged scoff. “Oh, would you look at that, he wants to talk! Now he wants to talk. Well guess what, fuckhead—I don’t.” 

With that, you march out into the balcony. His eyes follow the way you light up a cigarette. The way you drink the last drops of champagne that linger in the bottle gifted to you by his mother. 

She was kind. She was beautiful. She didn’t deserve someone being this mean to her son.

You barely recognize him because of how blurry your vision is, but his scent does it. Musky. Woody. Calm. 

He hands you the familiar pill, then a glass of water. He rushes the champagne away, then takes the cigarette and squashes it against the cold floor. He doesn’t so much call you out for being a lunatic, for upsetting his dogs with all your yelling, or for pushing him. No, he doesn’t do any of that. And you have never been more in love with him than now.

“I know I can be a bit much sometimes…” A sniffle. “I swear I try to catch onto it so you don’t have to deal with any of this, but—”

“You don’t mean it.” He tangles his fingers through your hair as you sob. And it’s soft despite spending the entire day near the ocean. It feels silky. He’s obsessed. “I know you.”

-

You were made for Carlos Sainz Jr.

“How do I look?” 

“Like an angel.” He swears he turns bright red when you blow him a kiss. “Your name must’ve been Bonita in another life because look at you…” A hand flies up to clutch onto his heart as he makes a face. “Though, I must say, you do know how to make me look bad.”

You giggle. “Oh? This old thing? I thrifted it. Nice, eh?”

He groans. “Very, but you’re supposed to be rooting for Spain.” A gag. “Not Italy.”

You frown. “That's all I had. Plus, you’re basically Italian given your working status.”

“No, amor, they pay me to like Italy. It’s a cover up, think about it.”

You huff, popping your hip outward. “Still. I like it, so I’m wearing it while cheering for the opposite team.”

“Always over complicating things.” He laughs. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you’re a complicated person.”

A deadpan expression. “Suck your own dick.”

“Oi, relax.”

Spinning to face the mirror, you fix your jersey one last time before skipping out the door, tube socks sliding as you go. The Spaniard lets out a dreamy sigh. 

Were you flawless? Not at all.

Were you put together? Not without a prescription.

But he loved figuring it all out with you. And that’s called love.

-

You’re in the middle of a rampage, during dinner. While everyone stares at you puzzled, he simply laughs at your cartoon expressions. 

“I mean, I offered!” A pout. “I clearly stated I could get the cap signed for her and she gave me the nastiest, ugliest, dirty-looking glare! I for sure thought her face was permanently damaged.” You relax against the chair, your shaky hand finding its way to your water bottle. “Like sorry for riding your favorite driver…”

Charles laughs nervously. “I don’t think that was a necessary thing to include…” 

You shrug, raising your brows over to your boyfriend who struggles to breathe. 

The conversation flows easily, like most nights you're all together, but this time there’s a minor bump. You’ve been good about it; avoiding the question for so long. Over the course of time, you’ve managed to be so mendacious, that truly no one knew the truth. Not even Carlos.

“I hope it’s not overstepping, but how did your mum pass?”

He means no harm, Lando, but you just wish so badly that you could believe that. While Carlos and Lewis were the closest thing you have to a family nowadays, even they knew not to ask. You never laid the rules out loud, but they could tell it was an unwanted topic to have on your behalf, no matter how curious they got. 

All of a sudden, your mood deteriorates. The look in Lando’s eyes makes sure to strike off as an apology, but you’re so busy looking down onto your lap that you don’t even pinpoint the meaning. The table grows awkward as time ticks by. 

No one has the power to change the subject, save you the same way doctors tried to save your mother—because they, too—wonder. 

You gulp, feeling small, but far too seen at the same time. It was confusing. “She, um…her last husband…” Everyone feels bad, like you’re some limping puppy, zigzagging down an empty highway, but remain quiet. Then, you look up, stone cold but the tip of your rosy nose and blotchy face is enough reassurance that you still have a beating heart.

“Husband number three strangled her to death.”

You say it like you don’t care. Like it hasn’t affected you at all, and that makes Carlos blink twice as fast as everyone else in the table. A droplet makes its way down your cheek as you let out a light laugh. 

“I guess he thought he was some Superior God who had a say in cutting her time short.”

They all freeze. 

“I am so sorry for asking—” 

“I didn’t need to respond.” You smile lamely. “It’s fine, Lando.”

But it’s not, not even close. They ripped the confession out of your throat, at least that’s what it felt like. No one stepped up, no one said anything. 

Your eyes flicker to the only man who makes your heart speed. 

He reaches for your hand and you grip it hard.

No one said anything.

Not. Even. Carlos.

-

You’ve always excelled at holding a grudge. It came fairly simple. 

But as you stare at him through the screen, for the first time—and only the first time—you struggle. Maybe it’s his puppy eyes that betray you, or his gentleness anytime he steps near you, you don’t really know. 

And you don’t want to.

“I was thinking mariscos.”

Hair flies past your eyes as you squint. He looks particularly handsome today, wearing a linen shirt that drapes over him like some silver armor. Long waves brush against his temples as he returns the squint, slightly smiling at your lips. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Soft music roams the isolated restaurant that almost seemed to belong to just you two, and that helps you relax. You could tell it helps him too. 

“The car felt good today.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, biting onto a piece of shrimp. “Felt like I was flying.”

You let out a whistle. There’s a comfortable silence that lingers for a while before you raise a brow up to the open sky. “Hey,” you start as his orbs flicker up with all the attention in the world. “Do you believe in angels?”

A moment. “I’d say so, yes. Yes, I do.”

Hum. “You sound freakishly sure.” You inch forward with teasing eyes. “Why?”

“Easy.” Chocolate orbs swirl with adoration. “There’s you.”

“I don’t count.”

He frowns. “And why not?”

“Because you love me, of course you’d say that only to be nice.”

“I say so because I know so.”

“Love is blind, love is blind,” you chant, sipping on his open can.

A second ticks by. “Why do you ask?”

And like the first night he met you, your eyes merge into doe eyes. “Because I do.” A sheepish grin. “And sorry to disappoint, but it’s not you.” 

“What’s his name?” he jokes.

But you’re not even listening. “My mom was pure. She was a good person, Carlos.” A beat. “She’s my forever angel.”

His heart physically hurts at your glossy eyes, immediately reaching for your hands. “You must really miss her…”

A wet laugh. “Is there a word stronger than ‘really’? If there is, then that would be one way to say it.”

And he has to apologize, even if it’s seven days too late. 

“I’m sorry for not stepping in that night. I-I-I should have said something and you should have said nothing.” Thick brows knit in together. “You don’t know how shitty I felt, but—”

“You wanted to know as well.”

The way his features freeze is enough confirmation. And you can't be mad. Not even a little. Not even a lot. 

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Carlos. I should have been more open and honest with you first.” A gust of hot air slaps you across the face. “I tend to shut out people like you because…I don’t know.”

“Vulnerability is a bitch?”

You laugh. “That’s one way to say it.” Orbs scan his beauty with no shame before falling back. “You still have plenty of questions, don’t you?”

“O-of course not.”

Another laugh. “It’s okay. You caught me in a good mood. Go on.”

He’s awkward at first, but slowly eases with the sound of your breathing. “Why hasn’t he been arrested?”

“Because he’s a multi-billionaire.”

He gulps and you blink. “Why haven’t you sued?”

“Because I’m not a multi-billionaire.”

“So…he did a cover up with a wad of cash?”

“Mhm. No one dared ask whose hand shaped bruise was imprinted in her neck.”

He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, but he knows he needs this because he knows it will keep him up the same ways it’s kept him up since that god forbidden dinner. 

“This was the cause of your…” He doesn’t even want to finish his sentence.

“Depression…yeah. Losing someone you love will do that to ya.”

But he wants to ask—he wants to ask more because he knows there has to be more. He’s lost people he loves too—and he loved them very much—and he never got this way. In a flash, he feels guilty for comparing his healing process to yours but quickly looks down onto his lap. 

And the hot summer rain is enough warning for him not to question you any further. 

The Spaniard shares a grateful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. To take care of you, and all t-that,” he stutters, blushing.

“I love you, Carlos.” A beat. “I’ve always trusted you. The only person I don’t trust is myself.”

-

“Be quiet,” she hisses, urgently signaling you closer. “And make sure to shut the door.”

Confused, you hesitantly push until you hear a click. Inching closer to your mom, you slowly become more and more lost as you eye the scattered papers all over your step-dads office table. “What is all this?”

Color drains from her normally youthful face. Even the brightest shade of red can’t help add life. “Proof of embezzlement.”

“What?”

She slides stacks of black folders towards you and you quickly flip through, to which you don’t understand a single thing. “He’s stealing money, that’s what. We’re not talking thousands, we’re talking millions,” she whispers frantically before growing green. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay, okay, hold on, you’re okay.” Rushing to be next to her, you clumsily tie her hair up into a messy ponytail before fanning her with the white sheets. You wince, quickly placing them back down. “How did you even come across this?”

Just as fast as a lighting bolt, she spins the chair. “I’m starting my book—” She gags, “I was supposed to start today, but I came in here looking for his typewriter. You know, the one with the tiny cherubs?” Across the office, you spot it, the tiny angels delicately painted onto the infamous typewriter. You nod. “Well, I started to search for some paper and instead found all of this…”

Even you grow dizzy as you eye the infinite zero’s that jump out against all types of sums. That’s not even enough to spend in ten lifetimes. It was no wonder he just recently made it onto The Forbes list. Her eyes—honest as ever—make you panic as you twirl your thumbs. “Wait…you’re not thinking of confronting him about it, are you?”

“I have to.” Pause. “Right?”

No. You don’t want her to. Not in any scenario. It’s taken you both so long to reach the life you deserve, and now that you were finally here it’s about to be ripped away from you? Your lack of words makes her glare. 

“I don’t know why I’m asking you, I have to! It’s the right thing to do.”

Adrenaline. “Mom, just think about it—”

“I did not raise you to be avaricious,” she spits out, fire practically fuming out of her.  You flinch. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Y-you’re right.” There goes all your money down the drain. “I’m with you no matter what.” 

Knock knock.

Like mother-daughter, you both freeze as your eyes flicker to the sound. 

“Angelica, are you in there?”

You never liked the name Angelica. Not on anyone else that wasn’t your Angelica. 

Running over to open, she finds herself face-to-face to Lucifer himself as he cocks his head in humor. “Locking me out of my own office now?” He enters. “Fun.” Dark eyes roam the messy area. “Fun.”

Her eyes plead with you in a language only you both knew, but never did you mean to obey. You wanted to stay with her—something told you to stay with her. 

“Honey, give us some privacy, yeah?”

“U-uh…” He winks like that was the go-ahead. Like that was the last permission you needed to agree. And maybe it was. 

Deep down it’s almost like you knew he had sinister intentions. Deep down it’s almost like you knew he was capable of committing those sinister intentions. 

Deep down. 

It’s like you don’t even care.

You smile, tight lipped. “Whatever you need.”

You heard the argument that night, you heard the threats. You heard her pleads, you heard her chokes. You could only imagine what was going on inside, but you were your mothers daughter. You could imagine quite a lot. 

She could’ve been an author—with his resources she might just have hit the New York Times Best Seller list. She could have been a grandmother one day—surely your kids would have lived a luxurious life. 

She could have been obedient. Why wasn’t she obedient? Was it so hard to brush it all under the rug?

He was sweating, just as much as a pig. Or maybe he’s glowing, he is smiling after all. Here and there he apologizes in a lousy manner, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was—

“How much money am I gonna get to keep?”

He’s intrigued. “How much do you want?”

“Enough to not have to worry.” You can still see it; cramped rooms, tin canned meals on paper plates. You could never go back.

An eye roll. “You’re just like her…” A beat. “Fucking greedy.” You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You’re embarrassed—-of course you were—who is he to judge? He sighs. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“It means I’m not transferring you anything. I want you out of this house no later than Sunday.”

Plump lips open, then snap shut, teeth gritting. “I’ll tell everyone that you’re a murderer. You’ll lose it all, w-watch.”

He’s not phased. Not even in the slightest. “And who’s going to believe you? Tell me, really, because I’d like to know.”

Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything.

And fuck yourself for having nothing at all—again.

Months swept by, the death was ruled a suicide, and antidepressant became your loyal friend. There was no one else, and sometimes you feared there would always be no one else. 

Then—by some miracle—there was Carlos.

He was handsome. He was shy. He was sweet. He was kind.

He was rich.

You played hard to get, but so did he. You played the long haul, but so did he. You were a fantastic liar, but he was an ever better believer.

And it all clicked.

Just the way it was supposed to.

-

You’ve been accustomed to a certain lifestyle for years now, but somehow you’re always surprised about the sudden boost you’ve switched to ever since you’ve met him.

Chanel heels turned into red bottoms. Last season dresses turned into those that were not yet  released. You loved everything about it.

“You look so beautiful, cariño,” he groans against your lips, desperate for more. His large hands play with the silky fabric, fighting to slide it up against your hips. You shudder. “I mean…come on.”

“Hey, hey—that’s sweet and all—” You push yourself closer to his toned body, immediately feeling his erection. You nearly whimper.  “But why don’t you fuck me instead?” A kiss. “You missed me, no?”

And instead—he whimpers. “How dare you even ask?” 

With that, he picks you up with ease, pinning you against the wall. You’re dizzy, because unbeknownst to him, he’s casted a spell on you. Never did you think you could fall in love, much less, have someone reciprocate. 

Tender fingers make their way to your clit as you lunge forward, biting down onto his shoulder. It should amaze you how he holds you up with one arm, but you’re not. If anything, you leak more and more by every passing second. 

His dirty pants make you fold as you clench around him. The way they curl, the way they pulse, all of it was your kryptonite. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you squeal, keeping your eyes trapped shut, feeling the familiar knot forming. He grins, pecking your sweaty forehead, digits speeding up. Berry lips form an O as you moan louder with every push.”I-I’m c-c-close—oh God.”

“Shh. It’s okay, let go for me, yeah? I’m right here with you.” 

Gritting your teeth harder, you moan like some pornstar as you finish all around him. Almost like some rule, he desperately sucks his fingers clean. The Spaniard hums like he’s living his biggest dream of all before opening his round eyes. 

“So sweet.”

You blush. “Yours tastes like shit.”

He laughs. “And yet you beg for me to finish all over your face, isn’t that so?”

Nearly choking at his bluntness, you fight back a smile as you play with his floppy locks. They’ve grown so much from the last time you saw him, so this was certainly eye candy to you. He sighs, relaxing as you continue to twirl thick strands around your fingers.

Soft legs still drape over his waist, hands still lay around your waist, and even breathing connects you both. Carlos feels like he’s nearly dozing off, but his hand remains firm, preferring to take a bullet than to let you fall. 

You like to think that you like his lashes the best. But then there’s his eyes. And his nose. And his heart. And his lips. And his hands. And his sculpture body. And his jokes. And his laugh. And his freckles. So you never could choose, not truly.

Inching closer to his ear, you smirk slowly. “Wanna fuck my mouth?”

His eyes snap open, jaw clenching. “You’re such a tease.”

A shrug. “Want to or not?” You bite your lip, legs letting go of his hips as you slide down. “Because this offer ends in five…” He raises a skeptical brow. “Four…” You motion him closer to which he steadily follows. “Three…” He laughs. “Two, one!”

Sprinting up the stairs in a flash, you giggle as he chases after you. The sound of his steps make your heart beat faster as you jump onto your shared bed. Rushing past the corner, he cocks his head to the side as he clicks his tongue. Stepping into the room carefully, he swung the door closed before locking it. You frown.

“Reassures me that no one will walk in.”

“No one will walk in,” you whisper as your stomach drops. “There’s no need t-to—”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees, taking in your breathless state. “But I prefer it this way. Just you.” A closer stride. “And me.”

Palms are sweaty. Blood slithers down your throat and thighs. And yet your freeze. You feel hot and cold, all at once. You don’t like the feeling, any of it, but you try to ignore the inner monologue. 

“You look stunning,” he states, finally reaching you. “You always do.”

Your speeding heart lessens. “T-thank you.” 

A beat. “You’re not nervous—are you?”

Hastily, you shake your head. “N-no! Of course not!”

Thick brows knit together. “Because you normally aren’t.” His smile fades. “W-we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to, you know that right?”

Physically, you’re cringing. Mentally, you’re spiraling. The act itself makes the Spaniard withdraw, taking a steady step back and shaking his head. Panic rises fast as you crawl closer to him, reaching the end of the bed. 

“I just have a lot on my mind, but I want this.” A beat. “I want you.”

It’s as if you’re a blank sheet of paper, blinking up at Carlos with such innocence. So much so, it makes his heart stop. He looks for reassurance, which you give him, and he looks for it again, which you give again without hesitance. 

“Come on, Carlitos…” you slowly whisper, batting your eyes. “I know you’ve missed my mouth.”

If you weren’t so breathtaking, if you weren’t so seductive, if you weren’t so goddamn tempting then surely turning you down wouldn’t be an issue. By alas, you’re here—and even better—you’re all his. 

“Eres un sueño.” It seems like an eternity passes by before he finally steps close to you once again, getting rid of whatever distance you ever had. Like it was never meant to be there to begin with. “Can I kiss you first?”

It’s sweet that he feels the need to build up to fucking you sore, but sweet nonetheless. That’s one thing you love about him—and there’s a lot to choose from—his respect towards you. Smiling warmly, you extend your arm, inviting him like an angel before he smashes his lips against you like the devil.

The contrast. It’s just what you needed.

“God, I fucking love you.” 

“I—” His lips press harsher as he continues marking his territory. All of it was making your head spin like a rollercoaster. “I love you too,” you manage to spit out as he makes his way down. You blush. “I-I-I sort of wanted to…”

He blinks. “Sort of what?”

“Well, you know…” You point towards his hardened cock. 

And he actually snickers. “Cat got your tongue today or what, bella?”

A groan. “You’re so fucking annoying—”

“No, no, no,” he cuts in with a whistle. “By all means, go ahead.”

Desperate hands crazily reach out towards his belt in a nanosecond. You should be ashamed how hopeless you are, but you don’t find enough strength to care. Not when he was looking down at you with hungry eyes. 

“Tan linda,” he whispered underneath his breath. As if you weren’t meant to hear him. As if he can’t quite believe it’s you he gets to keep. This must all be a dream to him, he thinks. 

Just as you’re about to pull his jeans down, large hands get ahold of your wrists. Confused, you look up at him, head tilted and messy hair falling over your shoulder. He grins wickedly. 

“Just one more kiss.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you kidding me—”

But his soft lips move with such urgency that you don’t even have time to bitch and moan. Not that you’re trying. You can feel it; the hunger, the lust. The way you run your fingers through his hair, or how he squeezes your ass. In a matter of seconds, the room grows steamy, hot breaths expanding with every peck. It’s as if Carlos was too afraid of being ripped away from you even for a second, scared your lips might change and he wouldn’t know a thing about it.

Not knowing you might be his biggest fear.

It happens without a warning, his grip. You feel it slide slowly up your ribs—you remember thinking how much you like it, how much it tickles. Then it reaches your chest, to which his eager hands squeeze your tits, pathetically moaning into your mouth. You can’t help but giggle, but still not separating. And then…

It reaches your neck.

As soon as he squeezes, your eyesight begins to blur, but he doesn’t notice. Your chest begins to rise and fall at an alarming rate, but he doesn’t notice. And you’re terrified.

But he doesn’t notice.

“Carlos,” you whimper, but he takes it as a good sign, mouth moving with ease. “Carlos, honey…”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is deep. “You like that?” Large palm squeezes harder. “Bet you do.”

“Okay, stop!” you scream, arms flying like some madman. “Let go of me!”

Panicked, he releases you in a hurry, jumping off of your trembling body. Color drains his face as realization hits him, but it's too late. You’re sobbing hard, shoulders bouncing up and down. The way you crawl back with fear makes his heart break as he shakes his head, running a hand against his jaw.

“Fuck.” More cries. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—I am so sorry, baby…” Desperate eyes stare back at you as you hide your face against your shaky hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have known, I should have known.” Inching closer proves to be a mistake when you leap off the bed, throwing a mountain of pillows like daggers. 

“Stop it,” you demand. “Stay. Right. There.”

He flinches. “Are you afraid of me?”

The laugh that erupts from your throat is unlike the others he’s heard. It’s almost maniacal. It makes his skin grow with goosebumps. “Is that even a question?” Dark mascara runs down your cheeks as you breathe heavily. “You just tried to kill me.”

“No,” he pronounces. “No, you know that that’s not true. I-I-I thought you’d like it!” The glare you flicker is enough for him to wince, pinching the tip of his nose. “I should have known better, okay? Please, just…calm down.”

All your sniffles come to an end as you freeze. “Are you calling me crazy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God.” Pushing your hair back, you release a chuckle. “You actually think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, stop putting words into my mouth.”

A scoff. “Okay, wow.” 

He doesn’t have a clue as to how he continues to dig himself into a hole—and yet—here he is. Digging his own grave. Exhaling hard, he licks his lips before looking straight into your glossy eyes. “I love you,” he starts, but you remain as still as a statue. “And I want us to work through this. I want to be able to talk to you, yeah?” A beat. “I’m sorry about…what I did, I should have never done it knowing you’re…traumatized.” 

He’s almost scared to see your reaction, but it never comes. Instead, you blink hastily, as if you’re mortified. 

You should’ve known. You should have figured that karma would catch up to you sooner or later.

I mean, all sins must be paid for, right?

As soon as he starts closing the gap, you’re thumping heart picks right back up. “I just want to talk—”

“No.”

Despite his hurt, he continues his march towards you. “I just want to be near you, please—”

“I said no!” 

It happens almost in the blink of an eye, the sound of glass shattering. He sort of thinks he must’ve imagined it, your hand flying to punch the mirror right besides you, but the gentle blood that oozes out of your hand makes his heart stop. Suddenly, all the scars you have make sense. So much makes sense. 

“Just…stay there, Carlos,” you say, voice trembling, small hand holding out a piece of sharp glass towards him like some wannabe knife. You bite your bottom lip. “Just—there.”

“Cariño…”

“Stop it with that,” you plead, teardrops slipping. “Stop calling me that.”

Somewhere in the shard, he catches his reflection. Half-scared, half-brokenhearted. He doesn’t even know how you two got to this point. 

He gulps. “Okay. I’ll stop, I’ll stop, but please put that down.” You shake your head fast, splotchy cheeks flushing furthermore. Carlos sighs desperately. “Come on—you’re bleeding.”

“I’m used to it by now.”

Tension resurfaces once again between you both as you stare at each other, awaiting for the next challenge. Playing the silent game for a second, curious to see who breaks next. 

“Why did you lock the door?”

He almost laughs. “We always shut the door—”

You raise the blade up higher as you begin to lose patience. Deep down, you know you’re not capable of harming him, but how could you ever let your guard down once again when he tried to strangle you to death?

History almost repeats itself, and you’ll be damned if you ever let it happen.

“You said it, we shut it but we never lock it.” A soft cry. “What were you planning on doing to me, Carlos?”

It’s like a knife to the heart, you’re sudden distrust. The brunette finds himself struggling to breath as he blinks like a lost deer. 

“You know that I would never hurt you. Not on purpose, at least…”

You let out a wet snarl, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you.”

A flinch. “All of this was a mistake and I adore you.”

“You don’t, though,” you protest, the shaky vision intensifying. “If not you wouldn’t have tried to mur—”

“For the last time, I’m not your step-father!” It’s as if he’s finally reached his breaking point, just now. His body is tired. His mind is tired. Everything is just tired of trying. Carlos shrugs lamely. “If you don’t want to believe me…so be it.”

The pain that rains out of him should be enough for you to know that he’s telling the complete truth. He’s a good guy, with pure intentions. He’s not here to get even with you on your mothers behalf. None of what you’re imagining is true.

But you just can’t seem to understand. 

“I don’t believe your lies, alright?” you spit out with deep breaths. You drop the blade, finally. “Open the door.”

With his head hung low, he complies, feet dragging with every step. And finally, with a hand on the knob, he turns to give you one last glance. He can tell you’re holding in your breath and he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Why it make him feel so much like a monster…

Click. The wooden door swings open as he pushes it gently.

“Now leave.”

A wave of nausea strikes with your words. “Amor—“

“Stop. Don’t even look at me.” Tension. “I don’t want to see you ever again—not even by accident.”

And that was the last stab that ended it all.

-

Every now and then, he wonders how you are. Hopefully better. 

He hears your name mentioned once in a blue moon, but instinctively blocks it out, too disturbed at the thought of what occurred between you two. 

What did occur between you two?

He could take a guess and say that you’re internally fucked. Straight and simple. 

But it’s still annoying. The way he wishes to forget you with every passing birthday wish. 

At first, it was because he missed you. He just wanted to forget you because he missed you—yes.

Later, it was because the memory of the cramped room suffocated him. The sound of glass breaking was stronger than the sound of his car crashing. And somehow the latter seemed better. 

He just wanted to forget that day—yes. 

Staring off into space has been his thing for a long time, often getting called out on it. Now, he finds himself with his eyes closed, too scared that someone might notice his feelings and feel the need to ask if he’s okay. 

He hasn't been. Not since you. 

“Grape or watermelon?”

Popping and eye open, he catches a glance of Lewis before rolling over. “I’m good.”

It’s tough, this silent war between both his friends. The break up simply made this…tough. Especially when no one really knows what happened. 

Setting the electrolytes down, the Brit claims a spot next to the brunette. Groaning at the unwanted company, Carlos switches to sit upright. Brown eyes glare strongly before Lewis laughs it off. 

“How you doin’, bud?”

Great, no yeah, just severely depressed thanks to your so-called friend. Would you mind asking her where she gets her antidepressants from for me? I mean, I would, but last time we saw each other she, uh, I don’t know, tried to stab me? And you know what’s the most fucked up shit? It’s the fact that I still love her just the same. 

I just wanted to help. 

He forces a shy smile. “Fine.”

A pity grimace. “I can tell she misses you, you know?”

Carlos hates how excited the thought of you alone—dreamily sighing for his return—gets him to sit up straighter, suddenly interested. It’s foolish, really. 

“She would never admit it, but I can tell because I know—”

“Her?” The Spaniard lets out a mocking scoff. “Trust me, you don’t. Not entirely.”

That shuts Lewis right up as he sits there, staring blankly. A dark brow furrows. “Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two—not that I need to know—but she’s a good person. And so are you. So…don’t be afraid of reaching out.”

He flickers his brown eyes accusingly. “Why should I? Did she put you up to this?”

“She didn’t—“

But the fact is, the hesitation gives him away. Anger arises as the Spaniard rolls his eyes. “I knew it, God, I knew it!” A second. “I know her.”

The Brit drowns with nervousness as he waves his hands in despair. “She just wants you to apologize!”

A singular laugh. “Apologize for what?” He pauses, squinting at his friend. “She didn’t tell you why we broke up, did she?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t really know who’s fault it was, do you?”

Lewis looks down onto his lap. “No. Not really.”

“Great, then let me be the one to tell you that it was both of ours. I’m no saint but neither is she.”

An award silence lingers as the Spaniards voice echoes the room. Lewis nods. “Understood. I got it, okay?”

He sighs an irregular sigh. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” A sheepish grin. “It’s not my place to fix anything about your guys’ relationship, I get it.”

Carlos’ face switches to bright red as he nods his head once. “T-thanks.”

The Brit, ever happily, stands up firmly before patting his back. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Gracias.” Lewis is just a few steps away when he clears his throat before he can even stop himself from asking. “How’s she doing?”

It came across almost softer than a mumble, and one might have missed it if not alert, but not Lewis. 

Spinning to face the almost manchild with round eyes, he smiles as bright as the sun, and that makes his stomach turn. Because he knows. He knows you’re doing—

“Really well.”

Fluffy hair falls down as he tilts his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s good.” Sure. He returns the same smile with a twitch. “That’s really good.”

Lewis has known you two for a long time now. He’s unwillingly memorized your ticks. How the right side of your face slightly twitches before every lie, or how the left side of his does the same before every lie. Much like right now. 

The Brit contemplates for a minute, then two, then opens his mouth in the most hesitant manner. 

“She’s moving to Germany.” Carlos freezes. “Only for a few months. Maybe a year, who knows. But…you should read her book.”

He unfreezes. “Her what?”

A faint smile. Eyes crinkled. “It’s a tough read, but I believe it was necessary. You know, to finally talk about it.”

-

He never quite believed you would open up this way, and yet here he was, in an unknown bookstore, spacing out. Your name jumps out like some shooting star, too difficult to ignore. 

Without a doubt, you’d get a lawsuit from your step-father. Of course—you were only dragging the last name of what seemed to be the world's richest man. 

For what it’s worth, Carlos is proud. This must mean you’re open to moving on. To get the necessary help you so desperately need. From start to finish, the pages are enticing. You go into gruesome depth, something you never seemed to have a problem in doing. From the mention of how her eyes remained open with no sign of life, only terror, to the fact that you got your many scars from punching the door, trying to get in on time. How he bribed his way against the laws. 

Everything seemed to be coming out.

So then why, as he sits in his driver's room, staring at your picture in the back of the book, does he feel like doesn’t believe it? 

Not even a generous half.

-

Angelica lived up to the first five letters of her name. 

She was there for you in the moments you needed her the most. She braided your hair for playdates, she tied your shoe laces even when you were too embarrassed to ask, and she worked her way up, making sure you had it all. 

Undeniably, she was one hell of a woman. Then again, she had more within her—pulled some trigger you never thought she’d pull.

You were going to lose it all, why couldn’t she foresee that? That conversation was going to rip your inheritance straight from your tight grip; the one that ensured your future vacations. How could she ever betray you? Her own daughter? 

You were acquisitive. You were possessive. You were partially responsible for her death.

But call it naiveness, you really thought it’d work.

No one will truly know the way your soul left your body when you heard you wouldn’t get a single dollar. Not even a fucking cent. You had to find some other way to stay secure.

But Carlos was out to get you, you just know he was. You don’t have a clue as to how he found out about the truth, about what happened inside that stupid mansion, but he knew it all. And you had to get out of there.

Only it led you back to square one. With no purpose. With no money. Fuck men and their actions, seriously, too all hell with them.

However, you were your mothers daughter at the end of the day.

You could be a writer. An even better one that she could've ever been. If you wanted to, you could do it. 

And that is exactly what you did.

You typed, and typed, and typed until your fingers would cramp up. The multi-billionaire was a leviathan and everyone would see that no matter what. 

You, on the other hand, were an innocent bystander. Too weak to intervene, to fight back. Too young. Yeah. That was what happened that night.

But you also had your own perspective. One your mom could never match.

While she married for the illusion of love, you would’ve married for money with no shame. Carlos just happened to be the luckiest of strikes because you got both. 

While she always was at the front of the room without having to try, you were always in the back with a bitter smile. Why did she get to have two dimples? All eyes would have surely been on you if you had at least one. 

And while she never cared about reaching the New York Times Best Seller list—you did. 

She would have jumped with joy just by selling ten copies, but not you. You always wanted more—craved more. Label it as ambition. 

More copies sold means more money. A trust fund means more money. Playing the victim against your step-father means even more money. So yeah…

You did care about that stupid list. 

Tilting your head back against your seat, you flinch at the taste of the pill, too familiar for your liking, but the wine helps. It always does nowadays. 

Buzz. 

Picking up with a level of indifference was all fake—you had been yearning this call for what seemed like your whole life.

“Hey.” His voice is almost raw. Like he could use a couple cough drops. “I-I-I read your book. It was incredible.”

And for the first time in a while, you smile. “Thank you, that means a lot, Carlos.”

You can hear the static against the line, indicating once again that you’re on opposite sides of the world and not together. You can almost bet that it will always stay that way. 

The Spaniard coughs awkwardly into your ear.

“Oh, and also, congrats on making it onto the New York Times Best Seller.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[simonisferal]

there's only one god you'd serve — scaramouche x obsessed, scholar male reader

"you're so crazy, manipulate me." — SUICIDAL-IDOL

shouki no kami era (everlasting lord of arcane wisdom), reader's not like other boys 🤭, ii dottore mentioned :/, yandere-ish and dark themes, haypasia slander (sorry), suggestive, pet play (leashes and collars), reader's kind jealous, praise (scars), VERY self indulgent — needed to feed my own delusion 😞 also dottore's kinda ooc / also didn't know what happened towards the end but 🤷

spoiler alert if you havent completed sumeru's archon quests

snezhnaya was never kind to the weak, you had to learn that yourself. the harsh weather and lack of trade made it almost impossible to live off as a commoner unless you were to join the ranks in the fatui. your parents didn't want that for you but by tradition, you were forced to be exploited by the tsaritsa and her harbingers.

you never cared for her royalty, only acknowledging the words of your lord.

he was sweet to you as a child, often letting you cry at the loss of your parents' attention even though he'd tell you to suck it up later. he'd let you eat some of the sweets he gotten from banquets, ones he hated due to the sugar or just overall sweetness. you would attempt to repay the favor of his kindness but he dismissed it as you were a kid, still learning how to survive.

he was right because when you were drafted as a teenager, any soft words or affection he'd give a regular child disappeared. he didn't even remember your name or maybe he just never cared to learn it before. but the live he would give you for years to come tainted any familiarity within you and him.

later, you were stationed in sumeru, the nation of wisdom. your group was meerly there to threaten a few merchants and to place fear in the believers of the dendro archon and her young vessel. it was easy enough and it was easier to slip through the cracks of the broken squad and find yourself in front of the akademiyian doors.

maybe it was the inner child in you who wished to learn, or the teenager who wanted so badly to run away, or the adult you are now who wanted to do both out of spite.

you made the smart choice of taking most of your funds out of the northland bank in your small vacation to liyue before this. it wasn't much, sure, but it was little to go noticed and enough to let you study and rent out a proper living quarters for two whole years. for all the hard work fatui members do, their pay matches their energy.

you cut your hair short, switch out uniforms, and do the tough assignment of giving yourself long lasting marks and burns. even the little thorn pricks mattered as the small group had gone looking for you.

no one dared to accuse you but instead asked where you were from and how you got those scars. lie after lie with you. a mask was put up between your past and your future life to secure the safety and comfort of being long forgetten by your comrades. it didn't bother you when the fatui came in the akademiya, searching for their previous team member, and your classrooms. they hadn't even seen your eyes, let alone your face or body out of the uniform.

it was refreshing to say the least. you had the freedom of an uncaged fledgling, slowly but surely using your small wings to fly away from your problems. and it managed to work for a while.

you continued your new life for years, studying under the kshahrewar darshan, managing your own job at a bar, and even learning to love lesser lord kusanali, even if she wasn't present. your life was great until you heard mentions of the fatui again.

your boss placed you in charge of serving any members of the group since they didn't seem to bother you (he shits his pants every time he sees their signature masks). making their drinks and setting down their plates, your ears perk up as they talk about their lord harbinger.

"the balladeer retrieved the electro gnosis from inazuma, what greatness!" one chimed. another one joined in with sorrow, "the fair lady's sacrifice shalln't be in vain comrades, remember what she has given us." they seem to salute to themselves in a creepy, culty way. weirdos...

they didn't even bother to pay for their meals and it pissed you off. mainly because their debt was paid from your wallet either way and becuase of their entitled natures. you scoff as you clock out, placing some of your mora into the register and walking home.

the next day, scholars you had known acted different towards you. not in a they know your secret, run way, but in a they're too busy to even look at you right now way. you would've let it be if it was for matters important but it wasn't even project week. you sat alone in the library, tinkering away with your machines that you yourself built.

an alternative for a vision was your most prized possessions, it wasn't like a delusion nor a vision, running on some sort of life or desire to be obtained but mildly a packet of batteries and some water of fontaine. no help from the akasha as usual, even you knew it was tainted with, made the project more valuable to you.

scholars appeared at your desk, sitting in front and beside you as you tinkered away. you didn't bother to look up at them in the process, your alt-vision tied onto your hands if they tried something funny. you sat in quiet until one of them grabbed you and stood you off of your seat. you were about to laugh in their faces about rough-housing until you saw their eyes. they were covered by a mask. a very familiar one at that.

"you're coming with us." you scoff, tugging back your arm. their grip is still tightening as the other members stand up to back them up. brotherhood is disgusting.

you clenched your jaw as you think about your options. cause a scene and somehow manage to get azur on this was the worst case scenario. he was the main cause of the farui roaming around with the audacity to spread rumors about your renowned archon. the best case scenario was to go somewhere private and defeat them, you think. you frown, relaxing your arm in their grasp and letting them drag to you a empty room.

they shove you in and lock the door behind them. they guard the door, in and out, like there was an important figure to maintain. you scoff, rubbing your arm due to their harsh yanking and examine the room. it's one you hadn't seen before, even after several years of being in sumeru. the interior is damp and dark, small cords of purple liquid ran on the floor and walls, and a maniac laughter that you knew only belonged to one person.

"well, if it isn't one of your previous servants, scaramouche." you can see his twisted and pointed teeth smile from where you were standing. his mask was unlike any other, and the second ranked harbinger tilted his head in amusement.

you heard another voice, more of a scoff than an actual word. "as if i'd need him back. he can go die off just like the rest of his pathetic group." his tone was condescending, like it had previously been for years. you didn't expect to see him until your death and he was the devil.

it was habit but after a few seconds, you got on your knees and bowed. your head laid down as sweat ran down your face. your done. your life as a scholar and a perfectly okay person was slipping through your fingers. "..lord."

"get up off the floor, insect. don't dirty my floors." ii dottore laughed at his remarks and you only trembled. you didn't fear him as everyone did, you didn't hate him like others did. you had a weird sense of devotion to him, like he was a god. you stayed on the floor, shaking your head. "apologies but i'm afraid i... i can't."

scaramouche growled from where he was, on a small throne. how mature.

the doctor beside his simple chair walked up to you and crouched to meet your eyes. he lifted your head with his finger no problem and you could only stare back at his mask. "you have a feisty scholar, balladeer. i'm sure he'll be the perfect addition." he chimes. you can't tell if he's being serious or not.

the sixth only cross his arms and leans back in his seat. he huffs. "that alternative for a vision powered on simple batteries is amateur work, at its finest. you sure there's no one else?" it hurt hearing your (new) life's work being tarnished but you don't refute it. you can only clench the false mechanic. ii dottore seemed to have seen a look in your face because he laughs.

"no one who knows the insides and out of elemental material and how to transfer it into a battery powered object. and yet that's exactly what we need." he looks back at the fellow harbinger. "don't be a brat in front of one of your beloved followers."

your breath hitches and you look back down in contrast of what both harbingers want. scaramouche scoffs, "fine. if this gnat is what i need, i suppose i'll do him the favor of letting him serve me."

the next several days were the most complicated of your life. you had so desperately escaped the fatui for years and life a studious life but all that hard work bit you in your ass later.

you were helping design and make with large tubes that had to be strong enough to handle the energy transfer of a gnosis alongside another group of scholars—mainly the ones who decleared they were too busy. it was complicated work for most and you had to lend your precious 'vision' as an example of a smaller transfer. you weren't even supposed to be studying this matter as your major but libraries are full of knowledge and peace that it was hard to resist.

and when you weren't carrying the group's discoveries and progress, you had to act like a dog. maybe you should've just stayed a fatui and let a playable character kill you for drops. that would be better than working under the supervisor of the doctor. but you doubt it was better than being on the floor, on a collar and leash.

yes, you've expressed plentiful amounts of hatred towards other harbingers (including childe, he would not let you rest in practice), you somehow maintained a sweet spot for scaramouche. he didn't let you call him anything else beside his title, which although fed into his superiority complex, it kind of pleased you to see him in power.

and surprisingly, he let you take control most times when it wasn't anything work related. he had gotten used to your nuisance, as he calls it and even gave you backhanded compliments about your work, including your 'vision'. he regularly got mad and fortunately/unfortunately, you were there for him, letting him tug and pull on your leash. weird, i know but it gave him some sort of comfort.

even outside of his chambers in sumeru, the collar stayed on. you weren't sure it it had a tracking chip or could explode like in your turn to die but you definitely won't risk your life just for an answer. perhaps that's what seperated you from other scholars.

and speaking about other scholars, you loved the balladeer with you heart and soul, as a child, teen, and now, but he thought it was a good idea to collect a new follower. was it because you weren't enough? her name was haypasia and although she was fairly pretty, you hated her. maybe because she got to see his previous names and life before you even dared to dream it. your blood boiled at the thought of them getting closer.

you sat in scaramouche's chambers, near his bed, waiting for him. it was like your second home already, most of your clothes were hanged and your shoes were placed softly near the foot of the bed. your favorite books and novels were set on a bookshelf that he had personally installed to keep you entertained while he was gone.

you could work on your project—you know, the only reason you were forced to meddle with the fatui again, but nah. you just sat there, waiting for your beloved (as he lets you call him) to return from the greenhouse. your jaw clenched at the thought of haypasia worshipping him like she was special. maybe she was but you'd never admit it out loud.

the only thing that took you out of your thoughts was when your shared bedroom door flung open with an aggravated harbinger standing in front of it. he slams the door closed, stepping inside and sitting down beside you on his bed.

"..lord?" scaramouche looked down at his hands. they were balled up into fists and they were trembling. he was definitely mad if the door didn't proof it already. he didn't bother looking at you, only extending his hand towards you. you already knew what to do and you head him a leash tied to your collar. he doesn't pull it to your surprise and instead looks up at you.

"give me your hand."

you raise an eyebrow but do as he says either way. you gently place your hand in his, it was slightly bigger than his and scared with tiny slashes and cuts. he holds it tightly and faces you. "where'd you get these? no lies."

the sixth slid his other hand to your forearm, tracing over the marks and scars you had given yourself. he was gentle with it unlike his usual nature and it gave you a sense of familiarity, the one you had lost before. "i gave them to myself, sir.."

he looks at you for a split second before eying your healed wounds. he raised your hand closer to him as if he were examining each individual pore on your skin. "why?" scaramouche asks.

you don't lie, "to hide."

the harbinger frowns and holds your hand up to his cheek. what exactly did haypasia do to him? he leans into your touch and flutters his eyelashes at you. all his previous anger was gone, like it was a facade or an act to get your attention. "from me?"

"i could never hide from you." he grins, backing away from your hand and placing it in his lap alongside his own hands. "good. if that was the plan, i would simply just let you leave. no big deal.." he looks away from you, acting like he's better than to see such a pest as youself but you see the small hint of red on his face.

he scoffs, "you'd come back to me," he leans in while grabbing your arm in a rough manner. "isn't that right?" scaramouche asks.

you can't help the small smile on your face and nod. he smirks and runs his hand on your broad shoulders, trailing them down your arms and admiring every inch of your tainted skin. "really? and how do you expect me to believe you?" it was a rtheorical question, you know but answering it would lead to a better place.

"how about i prove it to you?"

[liveontelevision]

R and R | Lucifer X OC!Reader

Another! Tadaaa

If i'm being totally honest, i was Stoned out of my mind when i wrote this, so i can't guarantee it's top shelf, but here ya go.

TW: some mentions of self-harm, suicide, but mostly fluff and suggestive stuff

Enjoy ;)

♡♡♡

You stumbled upon the renovated hotel directly after arriving in hell. It was a dark and confusing night, but you hadn't had the easiest life anyway. Barely getting by day to day, with a history of depression and self-harm, sometimes your only solution to your problems was to keep walking forward. So you did just that, leading you to a fantastical hotel that seemed to be giving away free rooms.

You entered the lobby, covered in dirt, blood, and whatever else was on the streets of hell. You worked as a waitress, and on an especially rough day, your break time was spent taking your own life. And here you are, in a pink and white striped, vintage uniform dress. Along with a little apron, that still had written orders on it in your pocket.

Looking an absolute mess, Charlie immediately took you in and fixed you up before rambling about the redemption aspect.

It was a miracle that you stumbled upon the clean and comfortable rooms available. It wasn't anything that fancy, but after being on the streets until your end, this was heaven.

After appreciating a significant amount of pampering, a hot shower, comfortable clean clothes, and a cushy bed, you were introduced to the rest of the hotel residents. Everyone seemed lovely, some.. interesting.. personalities, but nothing you weren't too intimidated by. Except for Alastor. The tall, shadowy figure put you entirely on edge, and you hated to admit that you were actually afraid of him.

Moving on -

You've been a resident at the hotel for 6 months! They did say redemption would take a while, but at this point, it was becoming hard to believe.. Still, in reality, why would you leave? You created a chosen family that can't be compared to your living family in any aspect. Not to mention the slightest crush on the king of hell himself.

It was something you were ignoring for weeks, but his humor and caring nature was too hard to ignore. The fact is, you start noticing little things when you develop feelings. How his eyes sparkled when he looks at Charlie, and fiddled with his ring when he became anxious, and how his hair get's messier when he seems stressed. You assume that he doesnt really take care of himself when theres too much on his plate.. it almost made your heart ache just thinking about it.

You also notice how he unconsciously flinches at the slightest touch, even to Charlie. From the sounds of it, he hadn't been this active and social for years, so physical contact had to have been sparce.

It was just because he was working on things.. yeah, important things!

Of course, its your anniversary of arriving at the hotel, so you were welcomed into the lobby that night with banners, balloons, some sloppy cookies, the works; everyone was there to celebrate your progress. The night consisted of a heart-felt speech from charlie, some disturbing accessories gifted to you by niffty, and a lot of drinking. Lucifer was prone to getting lost in a conversation, especially with you. And even moreso after a few rounds of whiskey. Very late into the night, you finally noticed how everyone had gone to their rooms, leaving you and Lucifer in a passionate conversation about whatever important project he was currently working on.

You found yourself facing him entirely, your knees brushed against his side with every roll of your barstool. You were too intoxicated to notice his small reactions to it. Occasionally, it would cause him to stutter or make him lose his focus. You were rudely dissociating while he talked, noticing his hair was slightly messy. It must have been another long day.. A small piece of hair fell into his face, but he didn't do much about it, continously blowing it out of his eyesight and combing his fingers back through his hair. It was all you were able to focus on while he spoke, almost to an annoying extent. You let out a sigh and simply brush the hair out of his eyes during one of his stories. You leaned back and propped your elbow on the bar, waiting for him to continue on after he stopped talking for some reason. It finally clicked that you may have overstepped his boundaries. He was blinking his widened eyes, just a slight blush across his cheeks. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands.

"Oh! Oh- Lucifer i'm sorry i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything I just-" you rambled an apology out before he snaps out of his fazed state. He quickly calms you down;

" Nope! No-ho-hope you are great. Fine! You're fine, it's fine.." his drunken babbles dug his grave. He groaned and laid his heads in his hands for a moment.

"Just.. i've been alone for so long, you know? I always get a little nervous when people do that.. type of thing..." He leaned up, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

For some reason, your only thought process was to try to calm his nerves any way possible.

" S-sooo.. do you want, like, a massage or something?" That bold comment was never something you'd say to royalty, even to ones you've become close with. Lucifer's eyes grew even wider as he stuttered nonsense.

You slap your forehead, "Fuck! Lucifer, i'm drunk i swear.. i'm sorry. If you manage to remember this night after blacking out, do me a favor and forget this whole thing, okay?" You rambled.

".. Yes."

It took you a moment to process what you just heard. You looked over to him, his shoulders were tensed as his hands clenched fists onto his thighs. He was looking away, biting the inside of his mouth, possibly to stop him from saying anything else. You blinked, a small smile spread across your face, just seeing this powerful demon acting all embarrassed.

"Okay. Sure, yeah!  I mean.. if you're comfortable, i.. i don't mind doing it." You responded. There was no reason to debate this, playing it off as a bold response. Lucifer gulped, his face only getting hotter with every word.

He takes a few deep breaths," Fuck it.. Listen, I trust you." He smiled at you, the kind of smile that made your heart melt. You try to switch the topic as the two of you moved up to his room, simply to avoid the dreaded awkward silence. You got into another friendly conversation about something unimportant, that will have been forgetten in a matter of hours.

You've been in his workshop once or twice. It seemed like he kept the doors locked often, probably nervous about anyone seeing the mess that was inside. It wasn't too bad this night. He did have to swipe a few rubber ducks off the couch, so there was a place to sit, though. Lucifer plopped on the couch, his back stretched heavily as his head leaned over the back of the head rest. He rubbed his shoulder in this relaxed position, seemingly stressed just by being in a place he associated with work. That didn't stop you from taking a mental photo of him in this state. He wore a white shirt, decorated with puffed sleeves that were rolled to his elbows, and a small ruffle coming from the neck line. He crossed his  legs in his regular heeled boots and began to explain some work he was struggling with. He brushed his hair back into place again, looking to you as he did and noticing you were still standing. He cocked his head before silently slapping the cushion next to him.

" So.. how we gonna do this?" He tries to play off the suddenly intimate moment with a jokingly flirty voice.

"Ah! Right, well.. you could - face this way, and i'll just -" you quickly sat with your legs underneath you and take a hold of his shoulders, moving his body to have his back face you.

"Ookay. So.. um, tell me if this is.. uncomfortable, okay?" You decided to set that boundary for him, and he nodded in response. He looked down slightly, revealing his neck to you, already relaxing his shoulders.

Your hands hesitated for a moment just reaching out to him. Finally making contact, you noticed a familiar little flinch, making you pull away immediately.

"Sorry! Sorry, go ahead.. uh- please.." he muttered. You nod and try again, your hands touching his shoulders much slower than before. He slouches his back towards you, letting out a satisfying sigh just a few moments later.

You moved your massaging hands from his shoulders to his shoulder blades, then to his middle back, then slightly lower. As you focused on specific areas that simply felt harder to dig into, you occasionally ran your fingers up and down his spine. He shuddered every time, making you do it just for the reaction at certain points.

You brushed another spot near his side, that made him flinch. It took both of you by surprise, being simply one of those spots on your body that make you jump. He let out a sudden hic, turning his head back to you. Your eye contact felt long overdue. The couch wasn't very large, his actions left him just a few inches away from your face. You hold your breath, worried that he'd hear how fast your heart was beating. You take the sudden interruption as a chance to make a suggestion.

"Can I.. can i do your- uhm..." You pointed to his chest, implying what you were too nervous to say. He almost stopped to think for a moment before shifting his position to face you directly. You let out your breath and looked at the nervous demon in front of you. His face was rosey pink, his eyes half lidded. You take out another quick breath before reaching back up to his shoulders. You dug into his shoulder and collarbone area, nervous to go any lower. Your thumbs traced the divots of his collarbone as your fingers reached up across his neck momentarily. He melted into every movement, his body moving with the direction of your hands, his eyes finally resting shut.

You got as lost in it as he did, the massage suddenly turning into your hands lightly tracing over his features. You could tell he only needed the slightest comforting touch to relax. Your fingers traced down the center of his chest, then made circular motions over his abdomen, then back up, tracing across his arms and squeezing his palms lightly. He flexed his wrists as if he was about to hold your hand in his. You were embarrassed to admit how excited that madd you for a moment. While running your hands near his sides, you accidentally reach into his partially untucked blouse. You both gasp and pull away, giving each other the same wide-eyed face. Lucifer was first to break eye contact. He looked at your hands for a moment before letting out a brave breath and unbuttoning his shirt from the front. You cover your eyes and stammered out.

"Woah-woah! It was an accident you don't have to do this if you-"

"Oh! Shit! Ah-hah.. i'd.. i mean, i wouldnt mind... if .. you.. wouldn't?" He bashfully replied, covering his previously unbottoned chest.

"No, i don't mind.." Your responses were becoming more confident, uncovering your face. You almost smile at him but become too flustered watching him remove his shirt. He let his top sit at his waist, simply pulling the shirt off his shoulders. His skin was like porcelain, smooth and white, and surprisingly cold to the touch. Your hands pressed on his chest, attempting to heat him up with your warm hands. Either you pushed too hard, or he expected something different, but Lucifer follows your hands and lets you essientally push him back to lay on his forearms. You can't handle it. He looked so amazing in this position. You both mentally decided that it was best to just not question this increasingly intimidate moment.

You resume running your hands across his chest, noticing his breath changing. After just a couple minutes, he was putty in your hands. His forearms were shaking and gripping the edge of the couch, ready to give out. Then he finally gave in, making him drop his back to the cushion of the couch. You followed his movements as the position slowly shifted, and your knee moved in between his legs, trying to keep up with his slouching torso. He's breathing heavily from his lips, his face a tomato red, while he can barely keep his eyes open. You enjoyed his reaction too much to ruin this moment, but god, you were desperate to be closer to him. You swirled your palms down his torso and abdomen, tracing his v lines until you lightly grazed the hem of his pants.

You stop yourself, pulling your hands away and keeping them close to you, hoping to hide your heaving chest until you calmed down. It takes him a minute to tune back in, looking up at you with concern and slight disappointment. His eyes darted around for a moment before sitting up and breaking the silence.

"You.. uh.. you want to stop? You've done more than enough, trust me, Way more than.. I.. erm.. fuck it. If you're not up to it, it's okay.. but-" he stopped his mumbling, to slowly pull out his 3 sets of wings. To comfortably adjust their size, he had to essentially curl them in your direction. Being as large as they were, they were nearly encasing the two of you together. You shrink back, curiousity hitting you before he could properly ask. You ran your hand across his feathers, simply intrigued by their color and softness. He let out a soft yelp, making you pull back again. Again, you two give eachother a wide eyed stare, not sure how to follow up that kind of reaction. At this point, you finally let out a snort and started to laugh. It was quick to lighten the mood, as he joined you.

"Keep going." He smiled at you, a beautiful sparkle in his red eyes, as he reached out to take one of your hands. He took that hand and gave its palm a small kiss.

"Ooh~ i'm honored, your highness." You teased. He responded with wiggling his eyebrows and sending a joking smirk in your direction, hoping that would conseal his excitement to your words.

It didn't, really.

You gently take your hand from his, and continue running your fingers across his feathers. They flinch at any contact but still folded into your hand with a longing to be held. His flirtatious demeanor immediately folded, letting out another sigh. He became a bit vocal this time, letting out low hums every now and then. And sometimes, he would attempt to hold his eyes open just to look at you. He wasn't sure if you could tell, being too concentrated in your work, but he didn't care. He loved the view. His breath became heavier again, but with the close proximity and his wings keeping you two close, the area became very heated.

You send a puff of air close to his feathers, letting out a small chuckle at his sudden shock. The laughter between the two of you slowly dissolving into sweet smiles. The light was slightly dampened by the coverage of his wings, yet you were still able to see his shifting eyes. He leans towards you, breathing slowly. In response, you place your hands back on his chest, causing him to sit back up a bit. He almost looked upset for a moment, being stopped from moving towards you. You gather the courage before moving in closer, your legs nearly overlapping each other at this point. You lean in just a few inches away and shut your eyes, allowing him to finally make the decision to meet your lips together.

The teasingly long tension from this intimacy seemingly burst. Lucifer's wings pull back, tucking back behind him. He breathes heavily into your lips, his head swaying in the direction of yours, still melting into your touch. To keep him from completely collapsing, you keep your hands firmly on his chest. His arms tenderly grab yours, just needing something, anything, to anchor himself. You pull away after a while, allowing him to catch his breath.

Even in this winded, flustered state, you could both tell this is something he's needed for a long time. It was a long night, following every desire that he was too embarrassed to ask for and loving every moment of it. It felt so good to give this sweetheart something he didn't realize he needed; something he deserves. You end up leaning your back on the couch arm, his back flush to your chest. Your fingers were running through his hair slowly, providing a very satisfying scalp massage. The warmth coming from you body, and him unknowingly using your chest as a pillow was more than enough to lull him to sleep. You couldn't remember if he was awake at the time, but you continued to plant a small kiss on the top of his head before falling asleep right underneath him.

---

You sit up quickly from your sleep, immediately wincing at the light coming from the workshops' windows. After taking a moment to get used to your throbbing head, you finally took in your surroundings and then the flood of memories of the night before hit. Your eyes went wide, and you groaned into your hands. Despite this reaction, you were so glad that you remembered last night. You finally notice a blanket over you and a large duck plush underneath your head, which made you smile until realizing Lucifer was gone. Your chest dropped, immediately thinking of what you could have done to make him leave you here, alone.

"Feeling like shit, my love? 'Cause i sure am!" His voice comes from the door, in an entirely joking tone. You quickly turn to see him, letting out a sigh of relief. The king of hell made you fucking pancakes. He wear a little apron protecting the same shirt he wore the night before, and placed your plate at a nearby table. You hobble off the couch, groaning from the stiffness of your body. Lucifer was quick to pull out your chair, and push it back in once you were seated, the table set with a variety of fruits, the tall stack of pancakes, a small glass of water, and a large mug of coffee. Clearly, that was what you went for first. The drink shot you awake, noticing the freshness of the ingredients and its preporation. You take in a large fork-ful of hotcakes and let out a stereotypical hum.

"You're amazing, Lucifer." You mumble out of your pancake-filled cheeks. He places his hand on yours, simply smiling at you from the side of the table.

"Thank you, darling. I really needed that.. like Really needed that." He huffs out, becoming embarrassed again. He didnt even stutter holding on to your hand. You finish off your food, having some light conversation that came easy to the two of you after last night.

Alastor's broadcast chimed through a nearby radio, "Hellish morning, residents! ~ I'm sure you all had a restful sleep after your nightly activities! Your planned activities for today include ... "

Alastors voice quietly fills the room, announcing some of the exercises Charlie had planned for today. His phrasing made you nervous, as if he knew what you were up to. It also gave you an uncomfortable flashback to a high school P.A. system.

" I should get going then, right? Busy... trying to be redeemed.. and stuff. You know." You slide out of your chair, letting out a nervous chuckle, not seeing his strange reaction to you mentioning redemption. As if he were scared to lose you to heaven. Before you have a chance to look back at him, Lucifer is wrapped around your waist. He shifts to stand into the embrace, as close as he could be. He leaves a hand on the small of you back, and the other on the back of your neck, his clawed fingers entangled in your hair. It takes you a minute to hold him back, just from the shock, but you held him tight, closing your eyes and nuzzling your nose into his hair. That's when you notice how lovely he smelled.. probably an apple scented shampoo. -And how he never flinched to your touch after that night.

♡♡♡

I left this one pretty suggestive, because i haven't really written smut before. I might rewrite this if anyone's interested in it going that route tho!

[starsnsparkl3s]

broken promises

cw: heavy mentions of death and suicidal thoughts, angst, based on this scene from greys anatomy with no context

"when are you going to stop suggesting that im suicidal?"

the question sounds also bizarre coming out of your lips. you and al haitham have been going back and forth about your results from the impromptu search nahida and the esteemed traveler did, along with paimon. you were a suspect in a dream that needed to be destroyed immediately, however, what they saw was worse than the dream that was the main goal.

dark images flickered around them, unlike all the previous dreams, full of emotions and color. hallucinations of various shades of red surrounded them, it felt as if they were being suffocated from being in your head to begin with. of course, for your own health, they told your husband, al haitham, about the pictures they saw. he tried talking to you about it, which resulted in the conflict in front of you now.

he took your weapon away from you, the weapon you used to protect sumeru, not caring if you put your life on the line. it was your job after all, but not even cyno was that careless.

"when you start acting like someone who wants to be alive."

your eyebrow raised, scoffing. as much as you loved al haitham, he really was insufferable sometimes and moments like this are were you wished he wasn't so stubborn. however, you were stubborn as well.

"give me my weapon back."

"why?”

" because im not suicidal and if you believe that, you’re wrong. "

now it was his turn to scoff. he put his hand on his hip and stared at you. the person he fell in love with, void of sentiment and passion. you still looked as lovely as the first time he met you but now you looked just as dead as carcasses he'll see in the desert. a few seconds pass before he responds.

"what happened last year when you fell in the water?”

your blood ran cold as the words left his mouth. last year you were trying to save a group of kids that were playing in one of the construction sites, which wasn't sturdy whatsoever. as you saved all the kids, one by one, the wood holding up the base of the building fell into the water. one of the kids started crying, saying how they needed to go in the water to get their photograph.

it was a photograph of them and their parents, who apparently passed. and you went in there. without a second thought. the water pricked your skin because of how cold it was, but you still went in and got that photograph. after you got out, soaked with the picture still in tack, the kids thanked you profusely and left. you passed out soon after, the hypothermia and the water pressure almost taking you out. al haitham wasn't pleased but nothing he could say could ever change your mind.

"i almost drowned! you think i did that for kicks?”

"you went in a body of water that was CLEARLY too cold and too deep for you to handle.”

"i was trying to save his picture!”

your head pounded with nothing. you were frustrated of course, but your body didn't feel anything. you couldn't tell that your headache was a migraine, it just felt, heavy.

"why is it, that every person there, even cyno, had the sense to leave and run from the danger besides you?”

you went to quip back but he continued.

"you know, people run away from this line between life and death. you just seem to stand on it as if it's a tightrope in the middle of the hurricane, waiting for it to push you one way or the other.”

you crossed your arms. you'd hate to admit it, but he was right. you didn't see an actual purpose into living besides protecting sumeru. you never had an urge to run for safety

"you're careless with your life. you're not trying to kill yourself, but you're careless."

your eyes filled with tears with his words. your head felt heavy and dizzy, your vision going in and out like a bad '50s movie. your body shook in some emotion you couldn't even tell at this point. you knew he wanted to help and he was worried, al haitham has always been like this. pushy and unforgiving with hid care.

“i am NOT carele-!”

“not even cyno would pull the shit you do. not even the TRAVELER THEMSELVES, would pull the shit you do. all three of you do implausible nonsense warranting such-”

“I DO IT FOR THE PEOPLE OF SUMERU,” your voice softening from the sudden uproar as the next few words leave your mouth, “…and you know that al haitham.”

his heart feels like it got chipped with one of liyue’s finest pickaxes. strong enough to break the outside but careful enough to preserve the inside. his voice wavers, but his next words make the tears from your eyes fall harder.

“no, you do it for yourself. you do it just for the chance of losing your life. just for the off chance, that you get caught in the storm and you die with a purpose.”

an: im back!!!!!!! ignore how bad this is i finished it at 5am so i had something for you guys…. apologies!

[mr-urple]

» The devil’s coming but only to worship me_.

Heyo guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! I'm Donatello, but I more commonly go by Don. I'm your average ninja mutant turtle teen with a penchant for violence and chaotic shenanigans. I'm just a silly guy, don't be afraid to hang around! You can slide something into my inbox while you're at it, I won't mind !

OC MASTERPOST (Last updated: July 1st)

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I make suggestive jokes (I'm a teen. What dost thou expect of me), but I won't be drawing NFSW, nor will I accept me or other minors being sexualized. We are not child molesters.

Please be nice! I'm not exactly the best at wording things (tone indicators save my life), but I will never, EVER be mean to someone on purpose (unless they deserve it. Then I'll go ham). While interacting on my blog, please refrain from being toxic. Some thoughts are better left to yourself

NO STEALING MY ART!! I don't know why you'd want to steal it in the first place (it sucks ass), but don't do it anyways. You can use it as long as you give credit.

I don't do commissions, but I take requests! If I see something in my ask box I like, I'll draw it. So, if you have any ideas, feel free to share them! I like having motivation boosters.

Don't.... don't try to flirt with me........ I'm taken....... I won't accept... guys please..... I know I'm hot but like.... please........ I'm also a minor....... guys..... 😞

EXTRA INFO ABOUT ME!!! IF YOU EVEN CARE!!!

16 years old

5'4"

INTP / 5w4 / 548

I ate a roly poly once (I was fIVE-)

During covid I chose suicide, now I choose homicide :)

I may be a Donnie but I am warning you, I am very. Very dumb

AuDHD (I just say I'm autistic tho because it's funnier)

Chaotic evil

Literally just a cat in a turtle body

Will Bite /threat

Keeps getting adopted by people for some reason

Yyyyyeeahhhhh that's about it, remember to be nice and have fun and shit. Stay silly gang!!!!

[chaoticbardlady99]

Yesterday I Felt like Dancing (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: You have burnt both ends of the candle and haven’t been taking care of your mental health. Unable to get yourself out of bed, Astarion begins to worry about you…

Author note- I have been hardcore struggling with my mental health lately and writing my silly little fics has been the only thing pulling me along. I thought it might be therapeutic to write about my current feelings (I have ADHD, MDD, and GAD so it’s a party up in here). I hope you enjoy!

CW- Suicidal Ideation, symptoms of depression, brief outburst, mentions of mental health diagnosis and poor medical advice.

Title inspired by song “Into the Walls” by Griff.

*not my pic, could not tell you where I found it so I apologize in advance. If you think it might be your picture, please message me so I can give proper credit.

Your last day before backtracking from the Mountain Pass to the Goblin camp is a difficult one.

Not for the group as a whole- just you specifically.

Days before a Mindflayer kidnapped you, a healer back home had told you your brain was sick. You had been devastated- resigned to your miserable fate.

You had been struggling for years at that point with inconsistent motivation, exhaustion, nightmares, and irrational thoughts for months. You have been functional for the most part, but then an overpowering wave will hit you like Warhammer in the ribs and you are rendered useless until it passes.

The healer suggested sunlight, exercise, eating healthy, and spending time with friends to help your affliction when you hit rock bottom. You were wildly unimpressed with her. At the time, you preferred to self isolate so you stayed by yourself in the woods trying to find peace there. You would have to let her know that her “going out and enjoying the sun” message is not always wise- you may get a tadpole shoved in your head. You can’t be that mad though- the tadpole helped bring your pep back.

Anyway, you have been doing all of that for weeks now, you even felt great, but today? You could not have hit rock bottom harder even if you tried.

You woke up that morning unable to get yourself out of bed. It was a rest day so it wasn’t a big deal, but you also know that your companions are going to have things they need to talk to you about and favors they need you to take care of.

Gods you had tried to get up. You are grateful that your past self had the gumption to wash off and change into clean clothes last night, but your armor is still disgustingly sitting outside your tent and your hair is long and wild. You had wanted to braid it, but it all felt like too much work.

Everything feels like too much work right now- even staying awake- so you drift in and out of uncomfortable naps throughout the morning. No matter how many times you fall asleep, begging for relief from the painful brick wall sitting on your brain, it never leaves.

You can feel the midday breeze rustle your tent. You’ve been laying here for hours now. You are crying and you honestly aren’t sure why. You feel completely paralyzed by all the things you need to do to be ready for the Underdark.

You need to clean your armor, go over the Goblin Camp’s map with Wyll, find Gale a magical artifact, and probably comfort Lae’zel since she’s been branded a heretic- but you won’t. The shame and self loathing continues. You are a silly, worthless little human being.

Every person who knocks on your tent gets a simple, “I’m just not feeling well,” and then they walk away. You don’t know why it makes you more sad than appreciative. If you were in their shoes- you would be bending over backwards to make sure they had everything they needed and you wouldn’t let them feel alone. Then you resent yourself for feeling that way towards your companions- they don’t owe you anything and you were the one who chose to help them- you didn’t ask for anything in return. This is all your fault.

The only person who hadn’t come to visit you was Astarion- which hurt your heart just a little, enough that the numbness coursing thickly through your body wavered for a moment. You are quite smitten and he is obviously not. Another mistake to add to the swirling black hole your mind has fallen into.

You knew it was stupid to want his comfort and affections- you had merely slept together a little less than a week ago. Astarion has been quasi avoiding you ever since and when he does talk to you- he’s awkward. You constantly look for flying pigs- Astarion feeling awkward or being awkward is unheard of.

You have come to accept that you were just some tryst and obviously he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as he said he did.

Astarion isn’t to blame and the situation itself certainly didn’t contribute to the sudden lack of emotions. You knew that you were on the verge of a mental collapse sooner rather than later, but you had foolishly hoped you wouldn’t be alone through it. It feels less all consuming when you try to find a reason. It’s more comfortable to know than it is to give up and say, “my brain is fucked and there isn’t a damn thing I can do so I guess I’m stuck here.”

You are jolted out of your thoughts by another knock on your tent.

“I’m sick,” you say flatly.

“Ha- you act like that will deter me. I can’t even get sick, Darling.”

Before you even have time to register that Astarion is on the other side of your tent- he pushes his way through the flaps and stares down at you in confusion. And… concern?

Astarion steps inside and kneels down next to you- scanning you for evidence of illness or injury.

“I suppose I had been worried for nothing,” he smiles sweetly at you, “you are totally fine. Come on Darling, you have to get up and eat. Wyll is fumbling with that map.”

You look at him and begin to cry. Astarion’s face lights up with alarm.

“What- what did I do!?”

“Please don’t make me,” you sob, “I just want a break. I’m so tired. I want to lay in this bed forever and never leave, but there is so much to do and it’s paralyzing.”

You continue to cry and you cover yourself with the extra blanket- successfully hiding your face.

“Go away,” you whisper, “I need to be left alone.”

You say it, but you are far from meaning it. You want him to stay- to hold you- but he doesn’t want you so it will only make everything hurt worse once the numbness fades away.

You wait for several moments and then you hear him leave. Your silent cry turns into choked sobs and your body is shaking from the pain you are in. The numbness hurts. The numbness tells you that you shouldn’t be alive.

Maybe you shouldn’t be.

Everyone here would be able to figure it out on their own (eventually) and you would finally be free. Free of your uncomfortable brain, free of your ugly body- free of the expectations of others. You would no longer be holding them back like you are today- like you will again in the future.

You are sure they would temporarily grieve you, but that was the deal with this whole journey. You had all accepted that one of you or all of you could die at any moment. You will just put them in more danger by being here…

You shake the thought from your head, violently- your head is pounding from the growing tension headache and dehydration. The tears eventually stop and you just… well, lay in bed again. You stare blankly at a book over in the corner. You keep trying to convince yourself to get up and read the damn thing- do literally ANYTHING else than just stay here in your bedroll.

Instead, you fall asleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wake up to someone knocking on your tent post. You grumble incoherently, covering your head and you hear your unexpected guest sit down next to you. The smell of food fills the tent and your stomach grumbles.

“You need to eat, my Dear,” Astarion says softly.

You are stunned to hear his voice grace your ears. You slowly pull the blanket down to just below your eyes and look at him. Astarion looks distressed, like he doesn’t want to be here. Why would he? You’re a nuisance.

You sit up gingerly and grab the bowl from him. You manage to give him a lopsided smile.

“Thanks. You don’t need to stay, I will be fine on my own,” you say apathetically, staring into the broth.

“I want to stay,” he says, “if you’ll have me.”

The expression on his face is unreadable, but he seems genuine. You nod, your lips pressed together tightly. You eat as much as you feel like while Astarion studies you.

Usually your anxiety is at an all time high (in maybe one of the better ways) when you are around Astarion- he gives you butterflies, butterflies, and even more butterflies. Usually your heart is racing in his presence, but right now you just feel empty.

“Where is your hairbrush?” Astarion asks.

You frown with confusion, “it’s in my bag, why?”

Astarion gets up and goes over to the bag- digging out a few items. He pulls out a lantern, your hairbrush, and a hair tie. Astarion comes over to you and sits down behind you. You feel him gather up the stray pieces of your hair and get to work.

Astarion runs his fingers through your scalp and your tangled hair- the feeling is soothing and it opens something inside of you. Your body shakes silently with sobs and you feel the worm behind your eyes wiggle as Astarion asks for access. You aren’t sure.

“I want to understand,” Astarion says, “please.”

His voice is so raw and desperate- you swallow thickly before allowing him to explore your current emotional state. The silence in the tent is palpable and you feel tense, uncomfortable even. No one has ever cared for you while you are in this state before.

You feel him continue his hairbrushing after he exits your mind. Astarion leaves soft kisses on your shoulder as he gently pulls apart every knot. It helps- you realize- to feel cared for. The numbness still hurts, you still hurt, but it’s nice to not feel so alone.

After Astarion is done brushing your hair, you feel his delicate fingers begin to intricately braid your hair. You wonder when he learned how to do hair.

“Leon’s daughter, Victoria, used to ask me to braid her hair all the time,” Astarion says in a bittersweet voice as if reading your mind, “I picked it up so that she would stop bugging me about it. She said and I quote, ‘you have the perfect braiding hands!’”

You smile to yourself tenderly, “That’s very kind of you, Star. I am sure she appreciated it as much as I appreciate it now.”

You feel Astarion’s hands falter at your words and you are unsure if you have upset him or not. A pregnant pause occurs before Astarion finally clears his throat and goes back to braiding your hair.

“I’m glad that I can help,” Astarion’s delicate, vulnerable words hang in the air, “I’ve… been worried about you today.”

You feel positively flustered and bad for making him feel that way.

“Oh you don’t need to worry about silly ole me! This happens sometimes” you make your voice chirpier than it needs to be, “This is actually the longest I’ve gone for a long time without this happening. I have theorized that the tadpole might help which is kinda cool- I think?”

You laugh awkwardly- desperate to ease his worry.

“How often does this happen?”

Shit. That was the winning question wasn’t it? Astarion will surely never see you as anything less than broken now.

“I’m not really sure,” your voice comes out in a whisper, “I usually always feel a bit of it all the time, but it’s manageable. I function very well regardless.”

“But this one isn’t manageable and evidently you aren’t functional right now.”

You sigh, “No, it isn’t and no, I’m not.”

“What changed?”

“Nothing,” you say, maybe too harshly, “that’s the part that drives me crazy. Yesterday was incredible- I was on top of the whole world, felt like dancing and screaming from the rooftops, but today!?”

You inhale and hold back the muted scream that wants to fill the air.

“Today,” you hiss, “I don’t even want to deal with any of this shit anymore. I’m so fucking tired. There is too much to fucking do and too many people depending on me. Then everyone gets irritated with me if I ask to push off their problems so I persevere through it despite knowing I’m getting bad again. I’m a giant stinking trash heap that everyone keeps adding more to.”

Astarion finishes braiding your hair and presses your back to his chest, pulling you into him. He puts his arms around your waist and settles his chin and face in between the crook of your neck.

“I just feel like such a nuisance all the time- no matter how hard I push myself to prove I’m not. Sometimes I think everyone would be better off if I just… went away.”

You both sit there quietly. At some point he had taken one of your hands in his and he was tracing shapes into the back of it with his thumb. Your omission still hangs heavily in the air.

“I wouldn’t be better off,” Astarion says hotly, “I’d be stuck with all these weirdos by myself. That would be truly miserable, Darling.”

You shake your head, a half smile on your face.

“And besides- you are not even close to a nuisance,” Astarion states, leaving a kiss on your cheek, “at least you aren’t in constant need of magical objects to eat or blood to drink. Oh and you don’t require a painstaking amount of searching to prevent you from literally burning everyone alive.

“Oh and did I forget to mention, we have not one, but two women who despise each other and follow hateful Goddesses which was a fun choice for whatever sick bastard twisted our fates this way.”

You laugh breathily, closing your eyes and letting the sound defrost some of your insides.

“What I’m saying is- I think you are the least of everyone’s ‘nuisances’, my Darling,” he says, squeezing you tighter to his chest, “despite how little you think of yourself. We ne- no, I want you to stay. I know everyone else would say the same, but I must emphasize that I would be horribly distraught if you disappeared. Hells I’d even pay to have you resurrected.”

You gasp playfully, your voice falling slightly flat, “You? The most frugal man I have ever met would pay 200 gold coins to ‘Strike thy name from the record’?”

Your impression of Withers gets Astarion to genuinely laugh- the sound vibrating in your chest. You lean into him and he guides you back to laying down. Astarion entangles his legs with yours as he holds you tightly- your faces are mere centimeters apart. You love the way Astarion smells- rosemary, bergamot, and brandy. You wish you could be wrapped up in him forever. You are still in pain- everything still hurts and feels too difficult, but right now it feels a little less heavy.

“I would throw bags of Gold Coins at that corpse out of revenge, my Dear,” he teases, “you couldn’t possibly think I would ever let you rest peacefully in your grave- I would be far too angry with you and unhappy without you to let that happen.”

You lay there and despite yourself, you lean forward and leave butterfly kisses along his cheeks with your lashes. Astarion scrunches up his nose reflexively and smiles at you. You plant a sweet, short kiss on his lips.

“Thank you Astarion- for everything.”

You close your eyes as he traces circles along your lower back. Your eyes begin to droop, and you fall asleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When you wake up the next morning- you are disappointed to find that you are all alone in your tent. The heavy numbness is still there and you sigh. At least last night made it more bearable.

You look on the side where Astarion had been sleeping and find a note with a bottle attached to it. You pick it up and begin to read.

Tav,

Astarion had asked me about herbs for some relief regarding mental discomforts. I unfortunately don’t know many, but this is a mixture of St. John’s Wort, Valerian Root, and Ashwagandha. Historically, I know these have been used to alleviate emotional and mental pain.

Astarion didn’t tell me why he was asking, but I deduced it was you pretty quickly when he began shooing everyone away from your tent this morning.

I hope this helps- we are all here if you need us. May Silvanus light your path as you navigate this difficult time.

-Halsin

You sit in your own stunned silence for what feels like hours. Halsin knows and he wants to help? Halsin doesn’t think you are screwed or a nuisance? The man barely even knows you!

You are a bit embarrassed, but you can’t help but laugh at the image of Astarion telling everyone to leave you alone.

You open the bottle and a pleasant, earthy smell fills the tent. You drink the mixture (that definitely does not taste anywhere near as pleasant as it smells) and you do feel a slight bit better. Your apathy feels even more tolerable now. You will have to thank Halsin.

You slowly rise from your tent and look around. Everything is packed up neatly in the corner- your clothes from the previous day are folded nicely and you notice all the holes are sewn up.

You jump when someone enters your tent abruptly- the midday sun warming your skin. You turn around and Astarion is smiling at you, but looks nervous.

“I cleaned off your armor and your weapons,” he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, “I also packed up your stuff- as you can see. We have to start leaving unfortunately, but I’ll help you get on your armor like I usually do- I might still need help with mine though, but I can ask someone else if it’s too much for you right now. Lae’zel and Karlach offered to pack up your tent. Wyll and Shadowheart figured out the map- Wyll is going to be our ‘fearless’ leader for the day. Gale has some food for you to snack on while we travel- which you will be eating, by the way.”

Astarion is looking at you with a vulnerable expression on his face. He plays nervously with the gold coin in his hands.

You can hardly believe what you are hearing.

“Did- did you do all this for me?” You say with disbelief.

You never thought Astarion was capable of smiling shyly until he had admitted to you that you had been his first thinking creature- you certainly never thought you’d see him become shy twice in your presence.

“I did and it wasn’t a nuisance so don’t even begin to worry about that,” He walks over to you, gently cradling your face in his hands, “I hope this is all okay.”

You smile- the first genuine feeling of happiness you’ve felt in the last 24 hours gently sparks in your chest as you stare up at him. You get up on your tiptoes and bridge the gap between your lips.

“Thank you Astarion, this is perfect- you are perfect,” you are crying tears of joy, “this is the kindest gesture anyone has ever made for me. So just, thank you.”

“Of course, Darling,” he says smiling in between kisses, “I won’t let you lose to yourself. We’ll get through this together from now on- no more hiding.”

And for once? You actually believe someone.

-if you guys like this, please let me know if you would want a part two written from Astarion’s perspective.

Update- I did the thing you silly geese

https://www.tumblr.com/chaoticbardlady99/735969926279528448/i-took-all-this-love-i-found-and-i-hope-that-its

Tag-list: @spacebarbarianweird @domainoflostsouls

[calqlate]

RE: LOVE & LIFE | THREE

— THOSE WHO SHARE THE MEMORY

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

PAIRING(S): zhongli x f! reader + diluc x f! wife! reader

SUMMARY: As the wife of the famous big shot in the wine industry, you have everything you could ever ask for — a beautiful mansion, endless wealth, servants at your beck and call... However, you lack the one thing you yearn for: love. With your beloved husband neglecting you and being stuck in a loveless marriage, you decide to end it all, only to be stopped by a man whom you have never met before, and who also coincidentally happens to be your soulmate. In addition, there just might seem to be more than what meets the eye in regards to your peculiar soulmate, and you just might have to find that out for yourself.

CW(S)/TW(S): contains mentions of suicide attempts

TAGLIST (italicised blogs are unable to be tagged, pls dm me with your updated username): @crescentmoonnn + @deeomi + @esthelily + @holaseniorahoe + @loving-august + @mshope16 + @needsleep3000 + @nerdiel-has-no-braincells + @saintbernardthethird + @seyboo + @thelonelyarchon

A/N: apologies for the wait, uni has been kicking my ass (i'm in my final year of bachelor's rn! wahoo!) which made my brain go to a stalemate for a while. bUTTT i've recently finished tale of the nine-tailed which caused my brain to spur into action again (everyone say thanku to lee dongwook)! without further ado, pls enjoy!

You were presently seated in the Third-Round Knockout, a Liyuen restaurant which was famed for its gorgeous dishes which had a mouth-watering taste. Zhongli was seated diagonally across you to your left and Ajax in front of you. It was an odd combination, really, having a meal together with your business associate and your soulmate in a fancy, high-end restaurant.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Zhongli's direct gaze on you. It was zeroed in on you, making it seem like he was scrutinising every square inch of your face, and yet it made you feel warm all over, making you feel... embarrassed, somehow? You could only take small sips out of your cup of tea, careful as to not burn your tongue.

(Your tongue, or your cheeks, either one was applicable in this situation.)

"Are you familiar with Mr. Zhongli's practice, Mrs. Ragnvindr?"

Ajax's voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"I'm afraid not." Oh no, was your mind preoccupied with other thoughts while Ajax was talking? "Could you elaborate on it?"

"I should let Mr. Zhongli do the talking instead," Ajax said, "It's better for him to explain his job scope."

"I am a consultant at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour," Zhongli spoke, "And I simply give people suggestions on how to proceed with their funeral preparations and which packages would best suit their needs. We have a variety of packages for everyone's needs, thanks to Director Hu's business-savvy mindset."

"I wouldn't have expected you to be a funeral parlour consultant," you said, smiling candidly at him, "If anything, I thought you would be an art museum director of sorts."

"He does look the part, doesn't he?" Ajax said with a laugh, "I once mistook him as a CEO of some sort the first time I met him."

"Oh, I understand what you mean," you laughed, "It's in the way he carries himself."

"And the fancy choice of words, too," Ajax chimed in, "That's not all: he's so unusually knowledgeable about every topic!"

"You flatter me," Zhongli shook his head with a smile, "I simply have a good memory."

"Excellent memory, you mean," Ajax corrected him almost immediately, "Anyone would kill for that kind of brainpower. Remember the time you gave advice to that one Fontanian guy who pivoted into film-making? He immediately made a whole lot of money with his debut film!"

You raised your eyebrows. If Zhongli was even adept at advising a novice filmmaker, perhaps he had some good suggestions for your new business plan you had in mind.

"Mr. Zhongli," the dark-haired man immediately turned his head towards your direction as soon as you called his name, "If you would be so kind, I would like to hear your opinion on my business plan."

He straightened his back slightly and interlaced his fingers together, interest piqued as his entire body was turned to face you as he spoke, "Sure, I am all ears."

"This is the business plan I had in mind, which is in collaboration with the Fatui Network..." You launched into your spiel, mapping out the business plan you had in mind (which all of the details had already been discussed with Ajax beforehand), and Zhongli listened attentively. After you were done speaking, there was a brief moment of silence.

"This is indeed a well thought-out plan, but could I make a few minor suggestions?" Zhongli asked.

You nodded, "Please feel free to do so, the floor is yours."

Zhongli began to speak his mind, pointing out what particular flaws and loopholes your business plan might have concerning your consumer base in a respectful and straightforward manner, and what particular negative repercussions might be incurred. You thought Ajax was bluffing when he said Zhongli was insightful; Zhongli was pretty much a wise sage speaking with all the knowledge Teyvat could possibly even offer. If he were a movie character, he would be the wise old pilgrim living at the top of some snowy, out-of-reach mountain that the main character had to climb for months just to reach him.

"...That is all I have to offer, and you might want to take my thoughts with a grain of salt," Zhongli concluded his verbalised thoughts, picking up his teacup again.

"No, what you've just said makes complete sense," you shook your head, "I'll adjust a couple of points on my end. Thank you for your insight, it was really helpful!"

As if right in cue, the food that Ajax had ordered arrived and was served on the table.

"Let's dig in, shall we?" Ajax grinned, and you mirrored his smile and dug your chopsticks into your bowl of noodles as a response.

Ajax left as soon as brunch concluded, scurrying off to pay for the meal first and apologising for leaving first due to urgent business matters.

So that left you and Zhongli alone, standing outside the restaurant.

"Are you heading back to the hotel, Mrs. Ragnvindr?" Zhongli asked, hands situated round his back.

The sun was shining in the sky, but it was not unbearably hot. On the contrary, it was warm and inviting, perfect for an afternoon walk.

You shook your head, "I was planning to go for a stroll. Would you like to join me?"

The man smiled as his eyes softened, "It would be my pleasure."

You and Zhongli walked along the roads of Liyue's capital, taking in the bustling chatter of people and the busy city life. Vehicles were whirring past the both of you, and the rays of the sun ricochetted off the glass panels of the buildings. Somehow, doing something as simple as going on a promenade was much more fulfilling than doing work back home.

"Oh, look! Roadside stalls!" your eyes brightened as you spotted a couple of stalls set up by the road, with old women managing them and selling a variety of trinkets. Without hesitation, you made a beeline towards the stalls, eyes scanning through the products on display. Zhongli joined you soon after, peering past your shoulder to peruse through the items on sale.

"It's nice to see you, Zhongli," a welcoming, gentle voice spoke, causing both you and Zhongli to look up. It was an old woman with her silver hair tied up into a low bun, and a pair of round-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose.

"The pleasure is mine, Street — ahem, Madam Ping," Zhongli returned the greeting.

"Ah, and who's this young lady you've brought along with you?" Madam Ping's eyes shifted over to you, and for a split second, you could see some sort of surprised expression in her eyes. However, it was fleeting and was quickly replaced by a warm gaze and a complementary, friendly smile.

"She is an... acquaintance of mine," Zhongli explained.

"It's nice to meet you," you smiled and gave a little bow (It's customary in Liyuen tradition for younger people to bow in greeting to the older folk, you remembered), then refocused your gaze on the items on display, "You have wonderful wares on display, ma'am."

"Take your pick, child," Madam Ping smiled, then bent over to whisper, "As Zhongli's friend, you're entitled to take one for free."

Your eyes widened into the size of saucers, "Oh, no, I can't do that! You're running a business here; I wouldn't want to make you lose any profit!"

"I insist," Madam Ping shook her head, then nodded towards Zhongli, "He doesn't have a whole lot of friends, so I'm happy to know he's made a new one. I guess you can say this is a little bribe from me to convince you to stay friends with him."

While you really thought you should not be imposing and picking out something for free, you knew you would offend this sweet old lady if you turned her offer down. With a smile and dejected shake of your head, you said, "Alright, then."

Madam Ping brightened almost immediately and you went about the stall, browsing through the wares, discreetly looking at the price tags and trying to pick the cheapest one so that you would not be the first step into driving this poor woman into bankruptcy (or whatever it would be).

Madam Ping shifted over to Zhongli and lowered her voice down to a whisper, "So, it seems you've found her again in this life."

Zhongli hummed.

"This is her last life, isn't it?"

Zhongli nodded, a bittersweet smile taking over his features.

Madam Ping studied his facial expression before speaking again, "You don't seem that happy to know that she's one step closer to reuniting with you."

Zhongli shook his head, "I am beyond delighted to know that she is not too far from reincarnating again and spending her next life forever with me, but..." Zhongli frowned before continuing, "I cannot help but wonder if that is exactly what she wants in her next life is all."

Madam Ping mirrored Zhongli's expression, but in a curious manner, "What makes you say that?"

"I was never her lover in any of her past incarnations," Zhongli explain in a slow manner, as if recalling an archaic tale from long ago, "I had always been a friend, a companion to her. In one of those lives, she told me that she never wanted to live her life like that, having me by her side."

He could remember it as clear as day. The day he saved you from drowning, his body completely drenched in seawater. The fabric of his clothes was clinging to his skin and his hair was tousled and damp. Your skin was pale and your lower lip was trembling, but most importantly, your eyes were filled with tears and you were hitting his body repeatedly.

"Why did you save me?" you wept as your fists struck his chest weakly, "You should've just left me to die!"

"I would never want to see you give up on yourself," he whispered as he swept a stray lock of hair out of your face.

You lowered your head and gripped his clothes, "Did it never occur to you that this was not the life that I wanted?" You raised your head to look at him directly in the eye, a sort of sad fury burning behind your eyes, "In this life, or in any other life, I've never wanted you by my side."

It was a painful yet memorable moment that haunted him every waking hour. Perhaps he had been wrong to even make that contract in the first place. All of this happened because of his selfish desire to see you again, to meet you again, to just stand by your side for another day. He had never once thought about what you wanted. And so, that day woke him up from his self-centered fantasy and caused him to question all his choices. Maybe he should have just let you leave and not hold you back. Perhaps that was what you wanted in the very beginning.

Madam Ping frowned, "I'm sure that's not what she meant. You know she's got a tender spot for you."

Zhongli lowered his head and stared at his gloved hands, "I hope that holds true, Streetward Rambler."

"Ma'am! I've found something!" your voice plucked the two old friends out of their little bubble of conversation, and both of them turned to look at you. You were waving at them, a smile in place as your other hand was holding something small in your palm. You looked so carefree and happy, and Zhongli could only hope you would stay this way forever.

"Don't worry too much, Rex Lapis," Madam Ping whispered as she gave the man a gentle pat on the arm, "I know she wouldn't blame you for your choices."

As the old woman walked off to talk to you and package your procured item into a small wooden box, Zhongli could only hope and pray that Madam Ping's words rang true.

[tjalexandernyc]

I suspect that help lines and mental health organizations are going to be swamped with people in need over the next few days and weeks.

If you are speaking to someone who is suicidal, or are suicidal yourself, I want to say a few things to hopefully demystify that.

First, it may be scary esp if this never or rarely happens to you, but passing thoughts about dying or wanting to die are a fairly normal response to extreme stress. Your brain is looking for actions to take. It is going through its catalog of possibilities. That doesn't mean it's right.

My brain, for example, often suggests we eat an entire thing of gummy bears when I know it will hurt my tummy. Same principal. A person's thoughts and urges are not them. It doesn't make you a bad person.

Now, I am not downplaying those feelings either. They may be brief, but they are very real. Many of us have a tendency to want to tell people who are thinking of killing themselves that everything will be OK, that they need to STOP. That what they're thinking & feeling is wrong.

This is a dangerous thing to do. If you tell a person who is thinking of suicide "you're wrong to be thinking like that; things aren't so bad; you're overreacting" it's 1) not very helpful and 2) makes them feel even worse.

Instead, compassion. Empathy. Listen to them. "It makes sense that you feel that way." Because it fucking does. Even if it's not how you, personally, would feel in the exact situation. (as if you could ever know that, but that's besides the point.) The point is, when a person is unmoored they are looking for a place to hold onto. You can be that landing spot for them. It doesn't feel or look like heroism because it's mostly simple stuff: listening, not arguing about the validity of their feelings, being there.

And if it's you going through it, my friend, I love you. I love you. I love you. And I'm right there with you.

Ultimately, the taboo of talking about suicide is more about a fear of emotional intensity than it is of death, though of course that is part of it. If you can be brave enough to face intense emotion, death is nothing.

Look, I'm just some guy, so you don't have to listen to me. I hope everyone can access the care they need to stay safe, but I also hope we can care for each other.

To be fully transparent, the first email I sent out this morning was to my therapist, who I haven't seen in over 3 years. I know myself; I know my patterns; I know I'm going to need help in the coming weeks and months. I am not ashamed of this.

Please do not feel ashamed if you need help too.

[elvisslut]

Tearing me down..

||tw- Suicidal thoughts, attempt at suicide, smut, cheating, depression, in depth details of feelings,hospital,in detail hospital visit||

You knew Elvis was cheating but hearing him and seeing him with someone else was a different kind of pain though. You loved him too much to leave after that so the cheating became more frequent each time you let it slide. Well..you still thought about it but you let it slide pass elvis.

Loving him became a sickness and it was dragging you to your grave. A grave you didn't want people to find out about. Him cheating on you is not only demeaning but it's embarrassing. It hurts to love him an not receive the same love back. He hurts, Elvis Presley for you.. Is the definition of hurt and Belittlment.

But he is also the love of your life. A man you can't live without. "Y/n? You okay? You look really sick" Joe says as he walks in the kitchen, you pouring you probably 7th cup of coffee. Since you caught Elvis and continued to catch Elvis you really couldn't sleep, you had constant fights with him, he hardly kisses you anymore let alone makes love to you.

You used to have such a good relationship, now it's just lies and cries. "Yeah.. Just tired" you give Joe a light smile and walk out the kitchen to the dining room table talking aseatamd watching out the window at the fans aching for Elvis. Elvis isn't even your husband.. You're not obligated to stay. But love works in ways no one will ever understand.

Joe was worried, beyond worried. He loved you like a sister and hated seeing you the state you're in. Elvis got more sleep then you and that in itself is a big thing that's strongly noticeable. Elvis averaged three hours you were lucky if you got a hour.

"Hey doll.. Ya okay?" Elvis said looking over at you with a grown after having come down stairs. "Yeah.. I'm okay" you say getting up and downing the rest of thehot coffee in your cup, going over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, handing him the cup since he was going to the kitchen then Going to the living room.

"E. P. Hey.. Come here" Joe says waving Elvis over to him. "Y/n looks real sick.. Maybe you should take her to the doctor.. " Joe suggests. Elvis chuckles and shakes his head." naw naw she's just tired.. I don' got the time to take 'er and I've got a few girls coming over today.. So I can't be gone" that's it. Joe figured it out. Elvis knew you'd stop caring so much for the girls.

He knew and he was waiting for it. He loved you but the thought of fooling around with you wasn’t much of a turn on for him. You loved elvis so much that no buts ifs ands or wills will ever stop you from loving him with your entirety.

“E..you’re hurting her with all the girls.” Joe says bluntly. “She doesn’ mind. She would have left me after i got caught with Olivia” he smiles at joe earning a frown. “You screwed Olivia? Is that why they ain’t friends no more?” Joe asks, Olivia was your best friend. For years. Then you found her under Elvis and thats when your world started to shatter.

“Im going for a drive ill see you boys later” you say stepping in the kitchen oblivious to the previous conversation. “ill come with” Elvis says looking back at you planing to talk to you about what joe said.

“I um..i don’t think thats a good idea..you just..you stay here” you say giving him a smile and turning around going outside. Joe had a horrible feeling in his gut. He didn’t like that you were going alone but he understood that you probably needed a break from Elvis.

Killing yourself was frowned apon.. But you'd be dead. Why was it so frowned on. It's such a easy escape.. From everything. It's such a easy way yo get away from Elvis.. From the love you have for . You parked the car at the end of the Memphis Bridge and walked the sidewalk amongst others, stopping in the middle and looking down at the water tears in your eyes. It was your last straw a while ago, but it all became too much.. Too overwhelming recently. You weren't going to jump..heights sacred you but you snagged up some pills from Elvis and took them.

"E, y/n's been gone a awful long time" Joe says that's same feeling in his gut getting worse. Elvis sighed and looked at the girls in front of him putting his guitar down. "Wait here girls I gotta go find someone" he says as if it were a harsh task.

They drove around for a while spotting your car then multiple police cars and several people not spotting you. Elvis and joe rushed out of the car, pushing through all the people as time seemed to slow for Elvis. The moment they seen you on the concrete with a officer giving you chest compressions Elvis broke down. Immediately going to his knees besides you.

The officer does a few more compressions and slowly you come back to see Elvis Joe and many others towering over you. Elvis puts his arms around you and squeezes for dear life. He almost lost you. Legitimately lost you. If a officer wasn't here he'd be burying you by next week.

"Oh god, oh god.." he sways with you back and forth sobbing holding you as close as humanely possible. "My baby.. My satnin, 'm so sorry please please don' leave me here. Please mama." his cries seemed to fade out. "Its okay my precious boy.." you say quitly as your conciseness slips from your fingers.

Everything for Elvis was dark once you fell unconscious in his arms that day. You'd been in a coma for a week. Elvis has not once left your side. He felt guilty and hurt that you'd do that but he mostly just felt a feel that had no word. Maybe sad love? Longing? There's no telling.

He knew his was at fault, he knew it too well. He felt regret for every girl he's been with that wasn't you. He couldn't get out of that room but he couldnt look at you. You had so many wires and tubes hooked up to you just to keep you alive.

He bit down on his lip as the last person visiting you left, he cried silently in the chair sat by your bed and the window. He scooted the chair to your side and grabbed your hand feeling the warmth of your skin. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed softly against your knuckles then laying your hand against his cheek, crying harder as he did.

Not knowing if this was the end of you or not. "Pull through this for me baby..ya gotta come back to your precious boy..please come back to me mama" he chokes on a sob and lays his head against your belly.

All the veins in his body pulsed for you. He didn’t realize it till the this week. You may have not noticed but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you whenever you were around him. He didn’t want to touch you in a sexual way not because you didn’t turn him on but because he thought you were too good too important to be touched like that by him.

“You’re my girl..you’re my girl, my girls gotta come back” he cried hearing tge door open to show a nurse the most dreadful part coming in a matter of seconds.

They were able to see if you could make it in your own without the life support. One by one the tubes and wires came off. Coming down to the last one that was helping you breathe. Once it was pulled out his heart stopped. A few seconds and you breathe in heavily for air, the nurses spoke to elvis for a second then left leaving him alone with you again.

Elvis let out a breath of air and rushed to your side again pressing his lips against your forehead. "That my good girl..thank ya.." he said softly tears streaming down his cheeks.

A few days went by and Elvis continued to watch you like a hawk. "Elvis?" you grumble with a cough your throat tremendously dry. Elvis bolt's to his feet and goes to you seeing if you were really awake tears flooding his eyes. You cough again snapping him from his state and rushing to get you water.

"Here baby drink.." he says lifting the cup to your lips and tilting it letting you drink the water slowly. You looked up at his eyes, his pretty gorgeous blue eyes and fell in love all over again.

"'M gonna go get someone.." he says rushing off.

The next few days went by fast Elvis did nothing but kiss you and apologize and pamper you. Then you went home. Definitely a place you wanted to go but.. It hurt to be back though. All the extra pain and hurt. But Elvis was back to being in love with you and it all washed that away.

He smiled at you as you got his help laying in the bed. Your bed.. Your shared bed. It felt so good.. So good to be back in this bed. Your boyfriend laying down right along side you.

He searched your eyes and slowly moved forward pressing his lips to yours and moving his hands up your shirt.

His fingers felt each inch of your skin as he pulled your shirt up and off of you, then working down at your pants tugging them off. "I missed this side of you precious boy.." you say softly reaching up and undoing his shirt, looking back into them pretty blues..

"I missed this side'a me too mama" he softly says leaning down getting another kiss from your lips. He pushes his pants down just enough to pull himself out and gets on top of you lining himself up and pushing in.

Your eyes flutter shut and your lips part as you let out a pretty moan just for him. Just for your precious boy to hear. He moves his hips at a steady pace wrapping his arm around your back and holding you close.

Tears started to fall down his cheeks, you lean up and kiss them away then wrap your arms around his shoulders. “I love ya..fuck mama..fuck i love ya” he grunts, the noises like music to your ears.

“I-..love you too baby boy” you moan out softly, elvis slows down and gives a few harsh thrusts before you’re both coming on done.

"Ya make everythin' so worth while.. Please never ever scare me like that again" he says tears continuing to stream down his face.

"I promise"

Tag❤️‍🔥: @elvisalltheway101

[littleoddwriter]

Cooper Abbott x GN!Reader w/ BPD (Borderline PD) | Mini-Fic in Bullet Point Format

Hey there! I wrote this during the weekend when I was having a longer BPD episode and needed to vent and find comfort. Debated with myself on sharing it, but I also know from my previous BPD-centric writing that it helps others that find themselves in similar situations to mine, so, why not. This is focused around one BPD episode. General BPD!Reader headcanons with Cooper might follow at some point, though. notes/warnings; Gender Neutral!Reader; Reader has Borderline Personality Disorder; BPD Episode; Implied/Referenced Self-Harm & Suicidal Tendencies; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Mentions of Murder(ous Intent) [because it's Cooper, so, duh].

Cooper Abbott Masterlist

You tell Cooper about your diagnosis as soon as you feel like you can trust him with the information. Over time, you’ve learned to be as open about it as you possibly could. That way you could weed out people that didn’t care or that believed in the stigma, and it was also helpful to set boundaries and explain your behaviour to the other person.

Most of the time - especially with the help of therapy - you try to manage your symptoms by yourself. You don’t want to burden anyone with your instability, and you certainly don’t want to risk being abandoned for being ‘too much’ again. But it doesn’t always work to keep it all away from the people closest to you, including Cooper.

He makes you feel safe, more than anyone ever has before him. He gives you the feeling of being seen and heard, and best of all, understood on some level. Not judged. 

When you move in together, it’s a lot more difficult for you to manage your symptoms by yourself, though. It’s hard to mask your feelings either way; but when Cooper is present, it’s like there’s no way to hide from him, for better or worse. 

One day, you have an episode, and you don’t know what to do because none of your recently learned healthy coping mechanisms are working, which only makes you feel worse.

Cooper tries to help. He keeps suggesting things for you to do, distractions, attempts to comfort you, and talks you through it. But it doesn’t help. It only agitates you more. Eventually, you snap at him. 

Regret and guilt tear you up on the inside as soon as your words leave your mouth. And you see the way Cooper falters. It’s rare for his own mask to slip around you. He looks almost murderous for a moment, like he’d want to smash your head into the wall. And it’s terrifying on one hand, but on the other, you wish he’d do exactly that and put you out of your misery.

You leave the room and he lets you, knowing that you’re not helping each other right now, but only making things worse. And once you’re alone, you lose yourself to the episode, after trying so hard to keep it inside and prevent the worst from happening. 

When you’re calm enough to face Cooper again to apologise to him for snapping, he’s gone. It almost drives you into another episode. But then you look at your phone and see that he sent you a message. An emergency at work. You don’t question it, but deep down, you have an odd feeling about the timing of it. Nonetheless, you decide to believe him, to cling onto his words that tell you that he’s going to come back to you, that he didn’t just abandon you over your outburst, and that he may not be as mad at you as he seemed at first.

You can’t get the look of his eyes from that moment out of your head, though. This murderous intent that gleamed at you. Those beautiful brown orbs that usually looked so gentle, suddenly devoid of any affection. Just cold daggers that were waiting to pierce you to death.

In the morning, after a restless night on your end, he returns home to you. He takes care of you, quietly and soothingly, not judging you for what you might have done during the worst of your episode. He lets his lips travel over each spot he knows you love to feel them most. The tenderness of his actions are a harsh contrast to the murder in his eyes the night before. Those same eyes that now look at you like you’re used to. Full of affection and care, and gentleness. 

Once you’re both sitting in silence, you apologise to Cooper, almost frantically. Still terrified that he’ll leave you, just like the rest. But he doesn’t. He accepts your apology and even apologises to you, as well. For having to leave all of a sudden when you were at your worst and needed him most, for not doing anything that helped you; not that it was his fault at all, but you appreciate the sentiment. 

Cooper finishes it with a new gift for you. A piece of jewellery he knew you’d love. He saw it on his way home, he claims, and just had to get it for you as a way to finalise his apology, but also to give you a new physical reminder of his love for you.

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Val Also Works for Roo/Eve 🦋⛓️

Warning, potential spoilers and some intense pictures.

There’s been ALOT of theories going around about Alastor’s soul belonging to Eve/Roo-Root of all evil(or whoever’s meant to be the ultimate big bad). But what if he’s not the only one working in the shadows for a greater evil. What if VALENTINO himself is also owned by Roo and is or will be helping her continue with her plans. Why do I think this?

They both wear red as a main color(granted ALOT of Hazbin characters got red but for Val and Alastor’s the colors used often). Along with the use of black and white.

2. Despite Val’s…temperament and moments of impulsive destructive idiocy that clearly tax both Velvet and Vox, they still keep him around. I imagine his movies and music videos probably help make good money but you’d think with how awful Val can be, they’d consider him more of a burden…unless he’s genuinely got power that not only earns respect from them but from everyone else along with fear. With how quick he is to go off the handle, makes you wonder how he’s able to manipulate so many people. Is he relying on Vox and Vel or is he…getting extra help somewhere else. 3. The use of chains is used often with them. And if you’ve seen the rest of the Roo art, chains are common too⛓️. Considering how triggered Alastor gets being reminded of “being on a leash” who’s to say part of Val wanting Angel to remeber that he owns him is also….to compensate for his own feelings of being trapped too.

4. It’s not exactly the same, but when Val formed the contract, reminded me of when Al made that shield.

5. Val’s main power seems to be smoke/pheremones. He’s not the only one who uses smoke-like powers.

5. Eyes are around their areas too. And going on the idea they’re drawn by misery….Maybe Val’s not just causing it for his own dark desires but to…feed someone else’s aswell.

6. even though it seemed he was expecting Angel to make Charlie go, he was STILL MESSING AROUND WITH THE PRINCESS OF HELL! Even Vox can tell Val should NOT be taking that lightly, had to stop him from trying to storm into the hotel in ep 2, he was PUSHING THINGS when he licked her 🤮…was he trying to push her to lose it?

What if his borderline suicidal confidence about how he is towards Charlie could be….he has a kinda safety net if Angel or Vox didn’t stop him…or perhaps trying to make her lose it on purpose…

I lowkey think Val used the studio incident as a way to try make Angel think Charlie’s a problem(just gonna cause him problems, make things worse and should just settle back with him). I feel like he already wanted to hurt Angel for leaving and ignoring his calls and seeing Charlie he could tell she came on her own and could’ve just told her to come back to talk another time like she suggested, but decided to use this to his advantage , just wasn’t expecting Charlie to unintentionally make things easy for his case with the fire. He probably figured if he got someone else blamed to Angel’s eyes for his suffering behind just him abusing Angel for his own twisted reasons, Angel would just settle back for him…

And going on my certain theory of how Roo and Charlie could be connected

Roo-This worked better than I thought. Wasn’t expecting her to be THAT CARELESS🤣

Val-But he’s still at the Hotel…he forgave her…

Roo- He might still be sticking around now but if she keeps up her screwups, they’ll all eventually be done trying to clean up her messes and she’ll be all alone…perfect for the grab!😈

Val-…And Angel will come back to me?

Roo- Unless that spider's ready to deal with his own personal demons, he'll be crawling back in no time.

Val-He’ll want me again…

Roo-🤣🤣🤣I meant he’d be back, not because he’d really want to. Cmon, since when do u care what ANYONE else wants, let alone what HE’D WANT!? Let’s face it, unless you can change yourself into something more tolerable beyond just using my power to be needed, he’ll never love you like he did when you first met. Monsters like us can’t change Val, not like that atleast…and soon enough we’ll make Charlie realize she’s the same😈.

Val-…

What do u think? I’d love to know💖

[valhallie]

Pregnant teen reader x Dazai

warnings:mentions of sex, underage drinking, and teen pregnancy, and mention of suicide.

You had been taken in by Mori when you were around 12-13.You had been bored there until you became friends with two other teenage executives Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya.

Eventually you found yourself catching feelings for Dazai.You tried to push the feelings away, until one night he showed up at your apartment drunk as hell.”Dazai? What the hell man it’s 3 o’clock in the morning.”

“Sorry Y/N but I missed youuu…There’s something I wanna try before I die y/n and only you can help with it.”

“W-what are you talking about Dazai?” You knew exactly why he was talking about.Sex.But you were so young and it was wrong.But the second he kissed you all of that went to shit.You woke up in the morning and he was gone.It hurt but despite that you two continued to have sex with him and it became a normal routine for you two.

Until one day.You saw him bring another girl into his office.You two weren’t exactly together but it still hurt.You decided to go to the one other person you cared about.”Huh?Y/N what are you doing here?” The ginger stared at you,worried.

“I just need someone to be with Chuuya.Please.”he nodded “Of course come on in.Two hours later you were both plastered drunk.    “Hey Chuuya?” “Yeah?” “Can we have sex?” His face turned RED when you said those words.”Huh?”

“I wanna have sex with you.” Normally he’d be hesitant but being so drunk he just pinned you down and started kissing you.The next morning you woke up with your head hurting terribly.Chiuya was gone but you opened up your phone to find a text from him saying “I’m sorry Mori-San called me in early and I didn’t want to wake you.” You were at first upset but at least he left for a reason unlike Dazai.

       Over the past few weeks you began to throw up every morning.You feared the worst.You went to Kouyou and talked to her about it and she suggested you take pregnancy test.So after you got off work you went to the market and bought a packet of tests and took one.About 5 minutes later you read the words Pregnant.You couldn’t believe it so you decided to take another test.It came back also positive.16 and pregnant.”God how did I get myself into this mess?” You thought.

Since Chuuya was your most recent sexual partner you decided to tell him first.”Are you sure it’s me?” He asked nervously.”Well no.It could also very well be Dazai but I haven’t told him anything yet so keep your mouth shut okay?”

A few weeks later you were at the doctors and found out who the father was.Dazai Osamu. You showed up at Chuuya’s apartment.”I got good news for ya Chuu.You’re not the dad.”Chuuya seemed relieved but also worried for you knowing how Dazai was.Be careful Y/N.

       When you finally built up the courage to tell Dazai you received a phone call from Mori saying Dazai had betrayed the organization and left the Port Mafia.You were shocked and heartbroken.A single mom at 16.You hated Dazai.Even though he had no idea.

        7 years later…..

He grabbed your wrist.”Yukio!”

That’s when Hana slapped his hand away.”DONT TOUCH MY MOMMY MOTHER FUCKER!” You looked down at your daughter.         “Hana!Who taught you that word?” You glared. “Uncle Chuuya!” Dazai laughed “Sounds like him.”You glared at him. “Come on Hana let’s go home baby.” “Wait Yukio!” Dazai followed you out to your car.”What do you need Osamu?” He looked dead serious. “Yukio tell me the truth.Is she mine?”You sighed. You knew you couldn’t lie to him.Dazai always saw right through you.”Yes Osamu.” He looked shocked.He has a child.”Yukio- I’m sorry…I had no idea you were-“ you stopped him in his tracks.”It’s fine Osamu.” He walked closer to you. “Yukio please I want to be in her life.” You looked shocked. “Really. You?” “I know it sounds unlike me Yukio but…Please. “Fine you can meet us tomorrow at the park.”

You were putting Hana in bed later that night. “Mommy who was that man talking to you earlier?” You sighed knowing it was time to come clean. “That was your daddy Hana.If you want to meet him we can go see him at the park tomorrow…”

Part two???

[shiorimakibawrites]

Idea: Adrift (Spider-Man)

Again, these are rough brainstorming notes and therefore subject to change. Any suggestions are welcome.

Warning: Spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War, Avengers: Endgame, and Spider-Man: No Way Home - Angst - Complicated Feelings - Referenced Character Deaths - Mention of the possibility of suicide

Adrift

Peter Parker / Spider-Man x Reader

You disappeared during the Snap. When you came back, five years later, everything had changed.

None of your friends had been Snapped – they have finished college or have entered grad school . . . some have gotten married . . . at least one is a parent now . . .

Your parents had another kid while you were gone – SISTER is cute, a very sweet little girl. You love her but her existence hurt – it feels like your parents tried to replace you. Like they don't care about you. You know logically that isn’t true – they were so happy when you came back. Even DAD had cried. MOM never lets you leave anymore without a hug, a kiss, and ‘I love you’ like she is afraid you will disappear forever.

Going to school is hard – the work isn’t difficult but you have no friends anymore, some of the teachers are different.

In short, you feel out of place in your own life. Like you didn’t belong. The world had moved on while you had stayed still.

One night, when you were on the roof of your building despite the cold weather when something feel on the roof. Or rather someone. Spider-Man – injured, cold, and it turned out hungry. You shared the snacks you had brought up along with your blanket. The vigilante claimed that the injury would fix itself, that he healed fast.

One day, when you arrived at your job at Cool Beans, your boss leaves you in charge of training a new hire. Another teenager named Peter Parker. You learned that he had also been Snapped and recently his aunt, his only living family, has died. Which explained why he seems so sad and just as adrift as yourself.

You keep having encounter with Spider-Man involving food, shared warmth, and talk. Nothing about his identity but the vigilante got how alone and disconnected you feel. Listened without judgment when you talked about your contradictory feelings about SISTER, DAD, and MOM.

Spider-Man shares some tidbits of his vigilante work, nothing really scary. More like the interesting or funny parts like the weirdest places he had found someone’s cat. Sometimes warnings about places that are getting dangerous. His excitement when Daredevil agrees to help him learn how to fight. Apparently his hand-to-hand needed work. Lots of work. There is another thing Daredevil was helping him train but Spider-Man told you that he couldn’t explain that without giving away someone else’s secrets.

As you observe things about your co-worker Peter, you get more and more concerned. He’s rail thin, often shows up with bruises. You can tell he’s very smart but quit school and doesn’t seem to care very much about getting any further education. Like he is just going through the motions, making you worry that he is suicidal. You get worried enough to ask Spider-Man to keep an eye out for Peter, just in case he does something drastic when he’s on the roof (you noticed that he is very fond of high places).

One day, you drag Peter back to your apartment. MOM takes one look at this sad, skinny teenager and immediately makes him sit at the table and eat a sandwich.

SISTER is a big Spider-Man fan. Thinks J. Jonah Jamison is a ‘big meanie’ something that seems to amuse Peter greatly. It's nice to see him with a real smile on his face.

[somekindofsentience]

why secret anger is a better tool than secret sadness, or hiding rage under a persona of nurture.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR: OMORI, DEMON SLAYER AND OSHI NO KO. I WILL BE SPOILING THE LATTER TWO'S MANGA SO BEAR IN MIND THAT WATCHING THE ANIME ONLY WILL NOT PREVENT YOU FROM FURTHER SPOILERS.

WARNING: DISCUSSIONS OF SUICIDE, GRIEF, LOSS AND MENTAL ILLNESS

We've all seen the character who has secretly been very sad their entire lives. Fuck, some of us are that character, and maybe have been for a while.

It's relatively easy to hide a sad backstory for a character, and it opens room to give them depth later on. And, unique to side or background characters, it allows the protagonist (and by extension, the reader) to connect further with them, giving the façade of plot and sub-plot depth. Of course, it's perfectly possible to do this well - it's possible to do every trope well - but it's also very possible to do this poorly.

And... it's so boring.

Like come on. Sad woman sad. Very sad. We're all sad, because we've been told to feel sad by the author. How sad.

I believe that there are far more fascinating tropes to explore, with much more depth - and I'd like to talk about one of my favourite forms of this. Hiding inner anger is infinitely more interesting, especially if the character can hide it well.

I've chosen three characters to discuss for this - Mari from OMORI, Ai Hoshino from Oshi No Ko, and Shinobu Kochou from Demon Slayer. I think all three of them perfectly capture the "hidden anger" trope very well, and I'll connect all of them, which allows us to understand the purpose of this character archetype overall.

Mari is an incredibly complex character, one whose complexity is actually very easy to miss. Due to Sunny's unreliable narration, we perceive Mari as perfect, since he blocks out any of her personality which mimics the truth. In Headspace, she's an incredibly default NPC, acting as a pillar for quest clues, healing and saving the game. As a player, you come to see her as some sort of comfort, a recurring symbol in irregular places. This evidently changes when Sunny discovers the truth, and we come to accept what he has done. However, Mari is never properly portrayed in the game - we only see her through the lens of the others - which means a lot of the fandom doesn't quite understand her character, let alone understand the selfish nature of perfectionism. There is nothing in the game that suggests she had external pressure causing her perfectionism (although I personally headcanon this), so we must go off it being internally driven.

Mari is not a tragically sad, or gorgeously happy character. She has been punishing herself with pent-up anger. Imagine you've been practicing something for months, over and over, only to find out your duet partner doesn't care anywhere near as much as you do. No-one cares as much as you do. All those months of practice ultimately mean nothing. Every time you pushed yourself to play the same song on repeat until it drove you insane mean nothing, because of this one moment, one stupid angry moment from your brother.

Despite all this, Mari isn't allowed to be angry, which is why the Truth segments still show her acting in an adult fashion (taking the unused Truth descriptions as canon).

In the photos of the truth, Mari looks like a disappointed mother, telling off Sunny. She says she "isn't finished talking...", like a parent. Mari was fifteen when she died. She had no outlet for this rage at all, no time to be a teenager, when she was the mother figure of the group. Her character trope as the "nurturer" trapped her in a hellish cycle of perfectionism, hiding everything until her absolute breaking point - which lead to her death.

In Oshi no Ko, Ai Hoshino is a perfect mother, perfect idol, perfect person. This seems widely agreed by literally everyone, and the manga follows her son's attempts to avenge her murder, and her daughter's attempts to follow in her footsteps. Although the goals of the children change partway through, when Ruby learns the truth of Ai's death and Aqua loses faith in his scheme... Ai remains a pillar of gold. And yet, we find out during the creation of the movie on Ai's life that people around her suspect she was hiding anger.

While I have perhaps... fallen behind... in my reading of Oshi No Ko, I'm just going to go purely off this panel and the previous chapters to analyse. Forgive me, I completely forgot which character says this, everyone's hair looks the same and I can't tell if it's Akane or the lady that adopted Aqua and Ruby. It's been a while.

Ultimately, Ai Hoshino is confused, and this makes her angry. We know she's never felt love before in her life - not until she had her children - which would be incredibly frustrating. You see everyone around you experience happiness and joy, and yet life keeps reminding you that your childhood was shitty, you work in the most insane industry of all time and you're exhausted. There's some implication that Ai's relationship with Aqua and Ruby's father was complicated, so perhaps that's the reason she's furious.

Regardless, Ai is far more complicated than every character portrays her as, which makes her interesting. As a reader, you smell a rat instantly. Something is off about the way she is glamourised, and you know you're missing a piece of this puzzle.

Shinobu outright states that she's been angry her entire life, at least since Kanae's death. She's been mimicking Kanae's sweet smile as an act of remembrance, but Shinobu is not happy, not calm, not sweet like Kanae was. Now, Shinobu isn't the most nurturing figure - at least not to Tanjirou, and not much to Kanao either - but she still acts in that calm, motherly demeanor, mimicking her older sister. In that way, Shinobu is also a perfectionist - she's just got a standard to match up to.

Shinobu is often mocked in the fandom for being "weak", but I think that's not the right way to understand her character. The fact that she doesn't fight off raw strength alone is symbolic, because it tricks the reader into thinking she's sweet and calm. No-one who is that weak can be full of such rage... right?

Mari and Ai Hoshino have further links due to the way they are portrayed after their death - as perfect. Sunny heavily misconstrues his sister, acting as an unreliable narrator for her personality, and it seems as though no-one will ever know what Ai was truly like inside. Instead, characters remark on their outward traits, which fandoms then fall into... guys. you're literally being trapped by the same trap their families and friends fell into. you're being gaslit by two dead women. please try to look past the silly little mirror they tried to reflect themselves in.

Now, what is the purpose of this archetype? They aren't main characters, and they aren't there as a fake display of depth, so what are they there for? All three of these characters die to further the plot - but more importantly, they act as a catalyst for character change in their sibling or children. Mari's death single-handedly destroys an entire friendship group, but it is also the reason they are brought back together. She alone allows Sunny to forgive himself, and within that, he must accept that she wasn't perfect, just as he isn't. Ai's death ruins Aqua and Ruby, but it gives them goals, something to work toward (symbolised with stars in their eyes). Shinobu's death allows Kanao to step forward and confront Akaza, which changes Kanao as a character, but it also ties up Kanae's subplot neatly.

To the player/reader, their deaths are far more important than their lives, but there is much more to explore in their lives than people understand. This is true complexity, and it's frustrating when it's brushed over in aus or fanfics.

Please, dig deeper. Look harder. Turn these dolls into humans, because they are corpses for a reason.

can you tell i find scary women pretty aggagagahgagsa

song i listened to while writing this: テレパス by Yorushika

The song is very good at capturing loneliness, and rage is quite an isolating emotion. Mari, Ai and Shinobu are all hiding an inner version of themselves, and they took that form to their graves.

[ikamigami]

Idk if it'll mean anything coming from me, especially since I'm anonymously sending this, but I followed your blog for a while and I noticed recently that your mental health has begun to spiral the more you interact with the TSAMS fandom.

You might get mad or feel attacked, but I'm saying this out of concern, even if I'm a fellow internet stranger. I see you taking criticisms other people have for the show and interpreting it as a personal attack against you. Yes, this show is important, especially to you, it seems. I know what it feels like to be attached to a character you deeply connect with and get frustrated when their issues are overlooked or not treated seriously. But at the end of the day, it is a show.

I'm not your parent, so it's not like I can control what you do, but the tsams-confessions blog only seems to make you even more upset. I think you should take a step back from everything, block that blog for your own mental health, and allow yourself a moment to breathe. I'm not saying to stop watching tsams, but maybe unfollow the tags on tumblr (I know I had to for my own sake lol) and just enjoy the show alone and with your friends. That's my suggestion

Again, I am sending this out of concern. It doesn't seem like you're enjoying the show anymore, it's only causing you increase distress, especially the more you interact with the fandom. I hope if you do take my advice, you'll be able to return to the fandom space if you wish to do so after some time with a clearer head and be able to enjoy things again. I know you struggle a lot with mental health, and it's likely you don't see what is happening to you.

Take care of yourself. I don't know you, you're just words on my screen, but I still worry for you and hope to see you happy <3

Thank you so much for this beautiful message, dear anon 💗

You're absolutely right that I should distance myself from sams fandom. It helped a lot when I distanced myself from mha (my hero academia) fandom.

I'm taking others' criticism as personal attack mainly because of my paranoia. Whenever someone is saying something negative and it's related to something I was talking about I catch myself on immediately relating this to myself. That people are talking badly about me. I know that it's not the case every time.. but it's hard to not think like that when I see people saying something related to topic about Sun being suicidal.. Topic that I'm mainly talking about..

I just wanted to share my experiences alongside talking about show. I thought that people wouldn't have problem with that. But it turned out that they do.

The thing is that I'm blocked by tsams confessions blog. I'm getting the feedback from one of my friends. They're sharing what is upsetting them.

Which also makes me upset and on top of that there's also the fact that there are others who relate to Sun and his mental issues and they are the ones who are sending anonymous confessions pouring their hearts there saying their frustrations about the fact that others dimiss Sun's problems..

Someone even said that they were also ignored the same way Sun was.. and seeing later that people say that we want Sun to suffer to prove ourselves to be right is awful..

I was talking to one of my friends @magrigano ... They're deactivated now.. They are most definitely depressed themselves.. They often expressed how much they're upset about people not seeing that Sun is depressed.. They also relate to Sun a lot..

I'm worried about them because they deactivated and I don't have any contact with them beside Tumblr..

I'm scared that they took what people are saying to their heart..

I hope that they're fine but it concerns me that they deactivated..

If you or anyone else know @magrigano please check what's happening with them..

They often liked my posts and commented on them.. I think that they felt understood..

I know that this is just a show.. but fans are real people and this fandom treats people who are concerned about Sun (because they relate to Sun and his mental issues) awfully..

They don't seem to realize or maybe they just don't care that they words are hurting real people..

For me these people seem as if they want to be right. They want their headcanons to turn out to be true.

That anon I was talking about last time for example said that just because we're worried about Sun it means that we wishes him to be harmed to prove ourselves right and it's yikes.. but that's not true.. these words are very harmful because this is just assumption made by a stranger.. this person doesn't even know any of us and yet they don't seem to have a problem with making things up..

When it really isn't about who is right or wrong or what is canon and what isn't..

It's about letting others be. Why people can't let others relate to Sun and be worried about him?

I think that people like that anon likes to always be right. They think that they're superior than others. I'm making assumptions now, I know. But this is exactly how this anon comes across with what they're saying.

Because at the end of the day it's more than just angst and headcanons etc. Because people who relate to Sun and his mental issues are real. People who are worried about Sun are real.

Maybe my posts were only fuelling everything more.. but like I said I'm not the one who is sending those confessions about Sun - those ones who seem concerned about him and being upset with how fandom treats Sun's fans..

And it makes me worried.. because it's not only me.. if it was just me I wouldn't be that much upset.. but now one of my friends deactivated and I don't know what's happening with them..

I'm appreciate your concern and kind words, dear anon 💗

I just wish that this fandom wouldn't attack people who struggle with mental issues just because they want to be right.

Also it's important to note that not every person deals with mental issues the same way because everyone is different and also there are a lot more mental issues/disorders beside the more popular one. Let's take depression for example.

People think that when you're depressed it's obvious because you look sad and you sit in dark room and cry a lot.. but that's not true. Many people have atypical depression or they have high functioning depression.

People should learn more about mental health to not harm others with what they say.. or they should just simply not talk about mental health if they don't want to learn more about it..

It's not that people only ignore Sun's mental issues.. because with how they words things it comes off that they're dismissive of mental issues of real people who relate to Sun.. with how they say things carelessly, they hurt real people..

That's why I'm worried. It's not only about me. More people say that they relate to Sun and it hurts them as well..

I just wanted to be a voice for them.. I wanted to help for our struggles to not be ignored..

I think that it'd be enough if people just let us be. If they let us be concerned about Sun. If they let us relate to Sun.

But some people are just awfully mean and don't care if they hurt someone because they are right.

Also it's hard for me to just stop watching the show because it helped me realize so much about myself.. and I want to know how Sun's plot will resolve because I relate to him and because thanks to him and obviously Davis and EC.. I could finally connect the broken pieces of myself.. because when I'm looking at Sun I see a reflection of myself.. He not only deals with similar mental issues to me but he also has the same character/personality. His short temper and sometimes mean comments or his horniness it's all the same.. I just feel like I'm looking at slightly different version of me.. because his life is worse than mine ever was..

I often catch myself on saying that I wouldn't be as nice as Sun in some situations.. or I don't know if I would survive as long as him in his situation..

I think that he's strong but having your issues ignored is awful also if you struggle with depression or any mental disorder that others seem to not see..

Thank you for your advice, dear anon 💗

I think that I'll try to stick to just watching show and talking only to my friends.

I'm still worried about others who relate to Sun especially my friend @magrigano.. I hope that they're alright 🥺

[cirrem]

Read "Les Miserables" for my "intro to humanities" class and it was really good so I'm going to dump about it here. it was an abridged version, so i may have missed some things. I may be incomprehensible towards the end. SUPER MAJOR SPOILERS

also trigger warnings for death, suicide, and christianity if you care about that.

first off, Jean Valjean is one of my new favorite characters in fiction. he's screwed up but in a way that makes him a better person.

The romance between Marius and Cosette was my least favorite part of the book. it dragged on, but then you look back and they only had 2 conversations before getting married but it talked about the romance for soooooooo long. I'm not Victor Hugo, but I would have definitally trimmed that down and introduced a multi-month time skip between the resolution of the barricade and the marriage.

Eponine is really stupid, and her death was completely avoidable. First: there are plenty of fish in the sea, you could have moved on so many different times. Second: don't bring the man your in love with to a death trap so you can die together, especially if he doesn't love you, and especially if you tragically sacrifice your life to save his and he ends up not dying.

If you don't like religious discussions I suggest stop reading here because I'm going to talk about the religious themes and the suicide and I know some people on tumblr will get upset if I don't preface it

Javert is a coward. He owes Jean Valjean his life, he knows that Jean is not a bad person, and he pays the debt, letting him run free. What makes him a coward is how after this impulsive decision, where he let him free only to settle his debt, he decides "if my worldview is wrong instead of changing and growing I should just kill myself" and does so.

I know he's supposed to be like "the overabusive law system" or whatever, but killing yourself because the guy who is being sent to jail for life, (because of the heinous crimes of: escaping jail, not telling people he was in jail, and stealing 1 loaf of bread to feed his sisters children) may not actually be an irredeemably horrible monster incapable of change, growth, or being someone who you shouldn't send to jail is incredibly dumb.

Now heres where religion comes in: I think Victor Hugo is intentionally contrasting the laws of man with the laws of God (in the bible, new testament). (Specifically, the beatitudes and life/teachings of Christ. For those unaware, I can give a very oversimplified summery: Be kind and merciful to others, even if they suck or you dont like them or they hate you or you hate them. (if you want to at this point bring up modern or historical actions of those claiming to follow or speak for christ when that contradict this, please move on. I am aware that people call themselves christians without following his words))

to summerize my thoughts: javert represents the "laws of man" which are fallible, and not actually just. Specifically, there is 1) only punishment for the wicked, no blessings to the righteous 2) no allowance for change as a person in judgement, once wicked always wicked. Compare this to every time a religious person does something in the book: the bishop takes mercy on valjean, and sends him away with more gifts, valjean becomes religeous, forgives javert for suspecting him, saves the life of someone who hates him, later, valjean sacrifices his life, revealing himself to secretly be a convict to save a stranger from lifetime slavery, a nun lies to protect valjean (the narrative states she never had before, she did something at cost of her own standards to save his life), valjean finds and saves cosette from the theadears and they take refuge in a nunnery, and get in only because of the man whose life he saved earlier. Finally, Valjean has the chance to kill Javert, in the revolution (Javert is tied up, and Valjean has a gun) but valjean sets him free. The book is really emphasizing the importance of mercy, even when it comes at a cost to yourself, and it would be easier to punish those you dislike. Every time someone is merciful, it turns out fine, even benificial in the long run. (and specifically the mercy as outlined by christ, as everyone that acts mercifully is explicitly religious, and it follows what he taught pretty closely imo).

Gods law of mercy, allowing and helping people to change for the better, even if they don't deserve it, is constantly shown to be superior to and more benificial to society than the harshness of man's legal system, which treats a criminal as always a criminal, and never gives to those in need.

Except, hear me out: this isn't about legal systems at all, this is about how we treat ourselves and those we care about.

We need to have mercy, both on others around us, and on ourselves. Valjean revealed the worst of his past to marius, but he wasn't that person anymore. Marius had to learn that Valjean saved his life from Thernadair! What! He is wastes away and DIES because of his shame of who he was, and his insistence that he is still as guilty as he was then. He had mercy, even for those that would chase him down, toss him into chains, and force him to work until his death, but he had none for himself, and he suffered for it. However, because of how he was kind, he was able to save and touch many lives, and drastically improved the lives of those around him.

Compare this to Javert, who rather than be kind to anyone, or himself, threw himself into the sea, never improved anyones life, and would have been killed if Valjean didn't offer to kill him (then not kill him). I know who I'll rather be, and I think thats kind of the point of the book.

anyways, if I have to write an essay on this book I think I'll be fine.

valjean and the bishop are both incredibly based characters. Eponine was more interesting than Marius and Cosette combined.