#also it was physically painful not to call bones bones

[madlori]

My ankle journey

I am sharing this with all you good people on the dash because I am so fucking mad it took so long for me to learn it and if I can spare one (1) person the agony it will be worth it.

So for like...oh, 8 or 9 months, I've been struggling with pain/inflammation/tendinitis in my left Achilles tendon. I don't know what caused it. It just started up (welcome to middle age, this shit happens). It wasn't severe enough to be debilitating, but it was annoying and limiting. It was also intermittent, in that some days it would be very painful and other days hardly at all. The kind of shoe I was wearing affected it a lot.

Now, I have bone spurs on both heels (it's just a thing that happens as you get older sometimes). I'm also aware that heel pain is usually the result of tight calf muscles that pull and irritate the tendon. I tried stretching that calf muscle. You know the stretch, this bitch right here:

I did it all the time. I also iced the ankle after walking for awhile, hoping to avoid inflammation. Results were...unsatisfying.

I went to:

A chiropractor

A podiatrist

A physical therapist

A bodywork coach

They all gave me some variation on the "strengthen your calf muscle, stretch your calf muscle" advice. I continued doing this without results.

I was getting frustrated, and a little afraid that this was just my life now. Finally, I thought...maybe some targeted massage might help. I asked for rec on a local FB site and was pointed to a woman who specializes in therapeutic massage including cupping, etc.

I went to her a week ago.

She spent over half our first session working on my left lower leg. Within about 10 minutes of making my eyes water, she uttered the sentence I did not know I had been waiting to hear:

"Oh, it's your soleus."

Excuse me, what?

"It's your soleus that's the culprit. It's all tied up and stiff." She started digging into it and I felt literal sparks run up my leg as she released adhesions and got the muscle moving a little. When she finally put the leg down, it felt like it was on fire with all the blood rushing into it.

She said, "You'll need to stretch your soleus. It'll clear up, but it'll take a bit of time - tendons take ages to heal."

But I HAVE been stretching.

"No, you haven't. The usual straight-leg calf stretch only stretches the gastrocnemius, that's the big belly muscle in your calf. That's not your problem. That stretch doesn't stretch the soleus. Don't worry, I'll show you how to stretch it."

My mind is spinning.

So here are the muscles in question:

The gastroc (as the pros call it) just attaches down the back but the soleus runs underneath it from the knee around the side to the heel. The lower part above the ankle is where it typically gets tight and forms adhesions.

To stretch it, you do the same calf thing where you put your foot back and press your heel to the ground, but you have to do it with your KNEE BENT:

The bent knee keeps the gastroc from engaging. It's one of those selfish muscles (like traps) - if you give it an inch, it'll just take over and prevent other muscles from working or stretching. There are other ways to stretch the soleus but this is the easiest and you can literally do it anywhere. I've been doing it while standing and waiting for things (the elevator to come, the toast to toast). You just put the heel back and bend the knee. It's kind of like curtseying.

The minute I did this stretch, I could FEEL where it was pulling on my tendon. I knew that THIS had been the problem.

The massage therapist also told me to stop icing my heel. She said icing is for an acute injury, but a more chronic aggravation needs heat, to increase blood flow for healing. She recommended elevation with heat every day (I've been doing it in bed during "phone before bed" time).

I have been doing the soleus stretch at least half a dozen times a day for almost a week, and the ankle is at least 70% better. It is still a little tight and tender, but the improvement is significant. I think a few more weeks will have it feeling normal.

I am...blown away by this. This massage therapist was able to pinpoint an issue in only a few minutes that eluded all the other professionals I saw. I can't wait to go back to her and have her solve all my other problems, tbh.

[neverendingford]

.

[cripplecharacters]

Facial Differences that You Should Consider Representing in Your Writing More

[large text: Facial Differences that You Should Consider Representing in Your Writing More]

As it has been said many times on this blog before, facial differences are a very wide spectrum - there’s thousands of conditions that cause it, and they’re often extremely different from each other! It’s an incredibly diverse category almost by definition. But…

In books, movies, and our inbox, it seems that a traumatic battle scar is the only facial difference that exists. I find this rather frustrating because I would like to see the real life diversity to be actually considered by writers when creating characters - and that’s exactly what this post is for. I hope that by making people just aware of the myriad of options they have, I can help a bit. 

This isn’t to say that you shouldn’t write characters with scars, it’s to say that there’s more for you to consider. Just like not every physically disabled person has hip dysplasia and not every neurodivergent person has epilepsy, not every person with a facial difference has scars! 

Of course, this list isn’t exhaustive - no such list exists, it would be like “list of every disability ever”, it simply can’t be done. This is just a dozen random facial differences that I would like to see incorporated into characters more often!

Facial paralysis Exactly what the name implies. There are many types of facial paralysis - complete, partial, bilateral, unilateral, chronic, acute, and it can affect the whole face, or only part of it.  Sometimes it can cause problems with speech or dry eyes (mostly the latter), but it’s frequently just primarily a visual difference. A person with facial paralysis might be completely unable to make facial expressions at all if it’s severe, or have a lop-sided smile and inability to raise an eyebrow or control an eyelid like me. Causes include cranial nerve damage (especially the 7th nerve, which is called facial palsy), Bell’s palsy, Möbius syndrome, or multiple sclerosis! It can be congenital, like in my case, or acquired, like in most cases - mostly due to stroke. Here I would write something about the current media representation being good, bad, or what tropes to look out for but I don’t know a single character with it. So :-)

Anotia/microtia Microtia is a congenital facial difference that affects the outer ear(s) - as the name implies, they’re smaller than average; anotia means a complete lack of them. This usually will also result in being d/Deaf or hard of hearing in that ear, as the ear canal can be smaller or closed (depending on the “grade”). People with microtia who decide on using hearing aids will usually wear a bone-anchored hearing aid, which looks very differently from the “regular” HA; it’s worn with a headband. Microtia can be the only facial difference that a person has, but it can also be a part of Goldenhar syndrome, Treacher Collins syndrome (mentioned below!), or hemifacial microsomia.

Congenital Trochlear Nerve palsy I have a subtype of this, and because it happens to have the most boring name in existence I have never seen anyone talk about it, certainly not see a character with it. So! CNIV palsy (again, an incredibly catchy name) is a disorder of one of the very-easy-to-damage nerves that allow eyes to move. It causes constant double vision, severe strabismus, and progressive facial asymmetry. A person with CNIV palsy will have a 24/7 head tilt to the side and will have their chin tucked in, which causes said asymmetry - facial features on the side of the tilt will sag down, the eye will “sunk” in, and because it’s congenital, the jaw can grow to be misaligned (like mine!). Over time, it causes neck pain and kyphosis, so add chronic pain to that. Trochlear nerve palsy can be congenital, acquired, traumatic, and even extremely rarely genetic (that’s me! allegedly <1 in a million). However, most acquired cases are only temporary, and “fix themselves” with the passage of time. Again, I would love to write something about CNIV palsy representation, but I’m fairy confident it doesn’t exist : )

Sturge-Weber syndrome The most visible part of SWS - that you might be familiar with - are port wine stains! In this syndrome, they tend to be large and generally cover the forehead-eye area. Around 15% of people with any kind of port wine stain on their face have Sturge-Weber syndrome, and even more when it comes to larger ones. Most people with SWS will have epilepsy since childhood, and many will develop glaucoma (which causes blindness) if the PWS is around that eye. Hemiparesis (one-sided weakness) can also sometimes happen on the opposite side of the PWS. Here is a short article about media representation from a person with SWS!

Cystic Hygroma Also known as lymphangioma, it is a bump that mostly happens on a person’s lower face and/or neck. It’s almost always congenital and a result of a blockage in the lymphatic system (thus lymphangioma). Sometimes, if it affects the mouth or jaw, it may cause a speech disability where the person’s speech might not be fully understandable, or cause an airway obstruction; this generally means that the person has to have a trach tube in their neck to breathe. Here is a short article about living and growing up with cystic hygroma by Atholl Mills!

Congenital melanocytic nevus A complicated name for a specific kind of birthmark! Melanocytic means related to melanin, so it’s a black or brown birthmark that can show up on any part of the body and be of almost any size. Sometimes it can be hairy as well. While CMN doesn’t usually cause any problems, people who have it have a higher risk of skin cancer, epilepsy, and brain tumors. Here is a short article on representation - among other things - by a person with CMN!

Ptosis Ptosis is actually really common - I can almost guarantee that you have seen someone with it - but for some reason it never shows up in media, unless it’s to show that a character is under the influence or vaguely creepy. Ptosis is simply a drooped eyelid. It’s caused by damage to the third cranial nerve, which can be congenital, acquired, traumatic, etc. It’s very common in myasthenia gravis and CHARGE syndrome. In most cases ptosis is a visual thing, but it can sometimes cause problems - for me, it partially obstructs my vision and for some people who acquired it later in life that can cause pain (due to having to constantly lift the eyebrow). Ptosis is often misunderstood, and people tend to make bizarre assumptions about those of us who have it - even Wikipedia cites “looking sinister” as a symptom (not that I particularly trust Wikipedia as a source, but it shows the general public’s view quite well). In real life, we are normal people and all these “drunk/high/rude/evil” associations aren’t true at all.

Treacher Collins syndrome You have probably seen a person with TCS at some point, as it’s not that rare. This is a genetic, congenital disability that affects the development of the face. The bones of the jaw and cheeks are underdeveloped, eyes have a downturned shape, and microtia/anotia is often present as well. A lot of people with Treacher Collins are d/Deaf or hard of hearing. Sometimes, the small jaw might cause problems with breathing, which is why a lot of people with TCS will have a permanent tracheostomy tube in their neck. Similar to ptosis, eyes in TCS are often seen as “looking sad”, but that’s an incorrect assumption - that’s just how they look like. The main and only big representation of TCS in media is that one awful movie from a few years ago, that was literally just inspiration porn featuring an able-bodied actor based on a shitty book, made by an author with some sort of abled-person guilt. Very cool, don’t do that.

Crouzon syndrome Crouzon syndrome is a type of craniosynostosis; a congenital condition where a person’s skull fuses too early. There are other disabilities that can look somewhat similar, like Pfeiffer or Apert syndrome, but they are different!  CS will affect the person's skull - it will be taller than usual, eyes - they will be large and bulging, midface - it's often smaller than average and can look sunk in comparison to the jaw and forehead, and more! Sometimes people with Crouzon syndrome are d/Deaf or hard of hearing (very common with craniofacial differences), or experience long term effects of hydrocephalus, which happens fairly often. Here is a short article by Mikaela Moody about movie representation - and her piece on how it to be trans while having a facial difference, which I relate to a lot and wanted to share:-)

Phthisis bulbi Phthisis bulbi is something that I have mentioned on this blog before, as it logistically should be represented way more often in fiction than it currently is. It's also known as the “end-stage eye” which is a pretty metal name. This is an ocular difference that can result after trauma to the eye. It can also result from a million other things, but trauma is apparently the most common thing to happen to an eye in fiction, so. With phthisis bulbi, the eye shrinks, sinks, and everything inside becomes stiff; this is permanent, and the eye isn't functional anymore - it's blind and unable to move. The only treatment is to have the eye removed, especially if it causes pain. If you're writing a character who got a Hot Sexy Scar over their eye and still has that eye, they probably should have this (and yes, the “shrunk and sunk” part is mandatory, you can't just make the eye lighter and call it a day).

Frontonasal dysplasia Frontonasal dysplasia is a congenital facial difference that affects the structure of the face. While it's a spectrum with a lot of variety, most people with FND will have hypertelorism (eyes spread widely apart), a flat and broad nose, and a cleft going through the middle of the nose. Other facial clefts (not necessarily just cleft lip) are also common. Sometimes, someone with it can also have cranium bifidum (meaning a brain/meninges that protrude through the skull, similar to how spina bifida works), or intellectual disability related to the potential absence of corpus callosum. Rarely, limb differences can also be a part of it; absent tibia, extra toes, or clubfoot. Again, I’m unaware of any representation of FND outside of “scary birth deformity” on medical shows :--)

Parry–Romberg syndrome PRS is also known as progressive hemifacial atrophy, which is a much more descriptive name. It’s an acquired facial difference that people just get for unknown reasons, mostly before the age of 20 and usually between 5 and 15. Generally, PRS is considered to be slowly-progressing, but this can vary pretty widely between different people. As the name implies, it causes atrophy in the face, which affects everything from skin to fat and muscles to sometimes even bones. Some people will also experience skin darkening, alopecia (hair loss), or trigeminal neuralgia (very severe nerve pain) on the atrophied side. The difference between the two sides can be very pronounced, with a visible line between the halves showing up on the forehead. Again, no existing rep that I know of :-)

And as always, I recommend this short PDF that in my opinion any writer who wants to include a character with an FD has to read. Additionally, you can also check our #face difference tag, this primer on facial difference, or this piece on making sure you’re not contributing to disfiguremisia.

Also apologies for the amount of “idk what to say about already existing rep because it literally doesn’t exist afaik” but I hope it illustrates the problem :-)

Happy Face Equality Week!

mod Sasza

[artsyebonyrose]

constantly having headaches, call me hajime hinata

lil vent! bc sometimes when i take meds for my frequent headaches i'm like "wow so hajime coded of me"

below this are alternate versions and an infodump about some of my post-game hajime headcanons (that i copy and pasted from my instagram post lol)

Anyway I hc hajime with a lot of pain post-game (and the rest of 77-b, but especially hajime). Despite being stronger than he was before the experiment, the after effects of the kamukura project take a great toll on him physically after he wakes up from the nwp. Pain where his surgeries were, deep down to his bones, heavy body and heavy head that gets frequent migraines. You wanted to be ultimate everything? There's a price to pay for all those talents boy ! (aka I don't like op unstoppable post-game hajime so I nerf him and make him more realistic, not superhuman)

Oh and the stress of their situation, the weight and heaviness of everything they did in the past and the state of the world presently, along with trying to rehabilitate his struggling ex-terrorist friends and support them through their healing journeys, trying to be a good selfless leader and help out around the island, trying to be useful to future foundation and to his friends, while also trying to cope (most likely alone because he doesn't want to burden the others when he's meant to have it all together and they're struggling with their own plights) with his newfound body and mind and the overflowing memories that plague him at all hours of the day, but ESPECIALLY at night when he stays awake unable to shut his mind up or drown out the memories of everything he's seen and done, or spectres of junko that haunt him and the others, refusing to let go, a reminder of who they were, what they did, how they can never escape that, and how if they could do it before then they could fall back into despair and do it again,,,,, yeah all that will definitely contribute to the frequent headaches and migraines too methinks 😁

[peppermintquartz]

"No, you beat the egg in with the rice-"

"No, you add the egg at the end, that's what Jamie Oliver said-"

Tommy takes the rice and eggs away from Evan and narrows his eyes at the man he loves. "Jamie Oliver doesn't know shit about egg fried rice."

Evan folds his arms and glares. "He's a professional chef."

"Who knows nothing about egg fried rice." Tommy points to the abomination in a jar on his table. "That 'chili jam' is proof."

They stare at each other, neither backing down. With a huff, Evan leaves the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Tommy calls after him.

"I'm getting tacos!" Evan yells back. And then the front door slams shut.

--

It's a stupid fight, and they both know it's a stupid fight. But two big men with a lot of pride and a lot of stubbornness can drag a stupid fight out for a week, easily, especially if they also have mismatched shifts.

Eddie says he is on Evan's side, more out of loyalty than actual knowledge of how a good fried rice should be made. But Tommy and Eddie manage to meet at a boxing gym for a couple of hours on their matching day off (Evan requested an additional shift, just so he can keep giving Tommy the cold shoulder). As Tommy punches the heavy bags and rants, Eddie listens and makes "Mm hmm, yep" sounds that suggests that he's not really listening.

"Look, I make a decent mac and cheese. Anything more complicated than 'throw in a pot and stew the hell out of it' is not my forte," says Eddie. "And honestly, is this about the fried rice or something else?"

Tommy lets his arms go slack. He's breathing heavily and he wants to feel some physical pain, damn it. "I don't know. Come on, beat me up so I can get out of my head."

--

It's a stupid fight and he wants to make up for it, but it's hard trying to get time to see his boyfriend.

Tommy is coming off-shift, waiting at an intersection and sending his usual message to Evan to say that he's done for the day (yes they're fighting, but they're not going to forgo the regular mutual reassurances that they are safe) when an SUV screeches across the junction and crashes into the side of his vehicle.

He's slammed out from his seat, the seatbelt digging into his chest, and hears the crack of bone as his head makes contact with something hard. Just before he faints, he thinks, Shit, Evan's gonna blame himself.

--

"...mie Oliver, I'll never look at his cooking videos again I promise."

The words drift over Tommy. He blinks. His brain is too big for his skull. "Ev'n?"

"Tommy?"

Evan's blotchy face. Red-rimmed eyes, pale skin, stubble. Beautiful.

Tommy smiles. "Baby. S'ry." His mouth is dry. "Water?"

Straw. Sips.

"Sorry," Tommy says again. Ouch. Ribs. And he can't move his left hand. "Made you worry."

Smiling damply, Evan brushes Tommy's hair back from his forehead. "It's okay. Go to sleep, wake up better."

Tommy lets his eyelids close.

--

It's not about Jamie Oliver and his monstrosity of an egg fried rice. It's about Evan not wanting to try things Tommy's way sometimes. It's about Tommy not entirely willing to cede his territory to someone else, even if it's to someone he loves.

It won't be their last fight. But Tommy knows that their next one, he'll remember how it felt to think he was going to die and leave Evan before they made up. He'll remember that, and never let that happen again.

[neiptune]

aot boys x reacting to a dream where you die

a/n: inspired by @meowzfordayz and her wonderful hcs! got a bit carried away lol these are too long but i hope you enjoy anyway :)

eren secretly freaks tf out but is too embarrassed to admit it. you wake up to the pressure of his hands not so subtly traveling across different parts of your belly and hips, the coolness of his fingertips on your bare skin making you shiver. “eren? what're you doing?” you ask, confused, your own hands closing around his wrists to delicately move them away. but he resists your push, his fingers stubbornly finding their way to the familiar albeit faded scar residing right above your hip bone. “sorry. didn't mean to wake you” his voice cracks, which is enough to prompt you to sit up. “tell me what's wrong” you take one of his hands and squeeze twice, your secret way to communicate that everything's fine. eren's big eyes search for signs of distress or pain in yours but all he finds is genuine concern and grogginess. he relaxes and weakly squeezes your hand right back. “bad dream. it's stupid, let's just go back to sleep” but of course you see right through his fake composure and pull him in for a hug, gently hushing the trembling exhale that tickles your neck as his arms close around you. “you're okay” he whispers to himself and you hum in confirmation, nodding against his shoulder. “i am. the only thing truly hurting me is your snoring”. he huffs at that, covertly thankful you're still there to give him a reason to roll his eyes

lol armin will not be there when you wake up in the middle of the night, senses alert bc of the unusually cold, empty spot next to you. he doesn't reply when you call him so you're forced to get up and explore the whole floor, bathroom to study, until you hear some muffled sniffling coming from downstairs and you rush to the living room, heart in your throat. “armin??? are you okay? what happened??” he's curled into himself on the couch but as he hears your voice he lifts his head, heavy groan crawling up from his throat because what the fuck, why are you awake? he hates hates hates the idea of you seeing him like this for the nth time, always so stupid and helpless now with tear stained cheeks too for something that's not even real. “nothing” his defensive tone startles you and he regrets it immediately, sigh heavy as he tiredly rubs his temples, a sign of surrender and vulnerability that draws you in until you're sitting next to him, warm hand closing on his knee. “what if i brew some tea? we still have some cookies left” you speak gently and his gaze softens, guilt already bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “it's 2am” “and?” “you have to work tomorrow” “and??”. so he ends up brewing the tea instead and you simply won't talk about what happened until the next morning, after a fair amount of the night before was spent sharing homemade peanut butter cookies with armin taking your hand to press gentle kisses to your wrist from time to time <3

oh my god jean 100% feels too stupid to mention it or letting a dumb dream upset him once he's awake and can physically see you and touch you as you're making breakfast together, he's also too proud to admit how horrible it felt to see your body get so rigid, your skin too cold, eyes void of their usual light. so he doesn't mention it. but you can tell something is off: he's more attentive than usual (when has he ever pushed you away from the toaster bc you might bet burned?) he's extremely touchy-feely (more than usual lol it's fine for him to have his arms wrapped around you as you're rinsing a fork but not letting go? not even allowing you to turn off the stove, at the expense of his precious eggs, now at risk of charring??) so of course your spider senses detect that something isn't quite right and you interrogate him over breakfast, just as he casually plays with your fingers and quite uncomfortably tries to eat with his left hand. “what d'you mean i'm being weird? that how you accept my unconditional love?” he has you rolling your eyes a number of times before he shrugs with a “had a nightmare last night, no biggie” “did something happen to me?” “yeah, no need to take the piss, i know it's dumb”. a fond smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shrug as well. “wasn't gonna take the piss. if something happened to you in one of my dreams, i'd probably freak out” “oh thank god” jean forces you up from your chair in a split second and pulls you in the tightest hug in recorded history lol

well connie will definitely blurt it out and attempt to downplay it at the same time lmao don't even get me started you'll wake up and he'd be in the kitchen making coffee greeting you with something like “g'morning! btw i dreamed you died last night hahaha isn't that so stupid??? you were dead dead, like R.I.P you, right in my arms” and you're standing there like 🤨🤨🤨 “i'm glad you thought that was funny?” “so funny, i even cried a little when i woke up haha you were sleeping right next to me and i was tearing up like a dumbass omg did i mention how still you were???” his emotional responses are all sorts of fucked up tbh. connie doesn't always know how to react to things and unexpected situations and complicated feelings bc he's so used to being the cheerful comic relief but somewhere underneath all the sunshine he carries around there's actual fear. connie is actually scared, all the time. of the ocean, of loneliness, of losing those who are dear to him, of being too much and not nearly enough at the same time. he has his own ways of dealing with fear and they're not always ideal. so you delicately take the clutched phone from his hands and peck his lips once, twice, each kiss lasting longer than the former until he takes your face in his hands and just keeps it there, forehead resting on yours. “i'm here. and you're a stupid idiot for calling yourself a dumbass”. he chuckles at that, which makes you smile. “promise you'll stay alive long enough to call me a stupid idiot a million more times?” “yes, if you wash the dishes”

i mean of course levi is mad. lol. at himself, bc he was not able to protect you in his dream and at you bc where tf are you??? he's petrified sitting up in (a very much empty) bed, mentally gives himself 3 seconds before he allows irrational panic to kick in but thank fuck you flush the toilet 1,5 seconds later, wash your hands and come back to your shared bedroom to find the grumpy man you're in love with glaring daggers your way, scowl so deep you hesitate by the door, silently wondering what you did wrong. were you being so tossy and turny you woke him up? did you take more than your share of blankets? did you accidentally punch him in the face? (it has happened and he was surprisingly nice about it lol). “i'm sorry” you blurt out, cautious as you climb onto your bed again, slipping your legs underneath the covers. “what are you apologizing for?” his voice sounds weird, which freaks you out even more. “not sure” you tilt your head “but you look mad”. levi huffs, features softening. “was it sleep kicking? or did i fart? you know edamame gives me real bad gas—” “you did not fart” he runs a hand through his hair, simultaneously exhausted and biting back an incredulous smile. “you died” he blurts it out but saying it out loud sucks so badly that he clenches his fists and you don't really know how to react. “i couldn't do shit about it. you just died. t'was horrible and i know it's not your fault and it was just a dream but...” “i'm sorry i died” your soft reply interrupts his babbling and prompts another snort. “stop apologizing” “what can i do, then?”. levi inspects your features attentively and takes your hand underneath the covers, intertwining his fingers with yours. “promise you won't do it again” he goes along with your silliness and you smile, nose rubbing against his, barely audible whisper of a “promise” before kissing him

porco will never and i mean never tell you what's up lmao his dumbass would rather die than admit a dream has had the power to affect him at all. he's a grown up™ and rational™ enough to discern reality from fantasy and guess what?? his current reality = you roaming around the house to cook, do the laundry, jokingly mock his housework skills as he vacuums rooms missing entire spots and breaks yet another glass in the sink (“stfu the sponge was too damn soapy it slipped” ) but honestly? porco doesn't even notice how much he stares the day after his nightmare. not just in the morning, he literally can't cast his eyes away from you for the entire day. he's 12 so as soon as you mention it he gets defensive lol like you'll be on the couch with your legs on his lap as he watches something on his laptop, you're reading a book and you'll say something along the lines of “ya know you've been staring a lot today” and he'll automatically reply “yeah?? cuz you're ugly” which only confirms your hunch. “don't be an ass, why were you staring??” “just told you?” “porco” “that's my name, don't wear it out” he's so infuriating honestly but eventually your persistence does wear him down enough to elicit one true response: “because i wanted to make sure you're actually here”. you tilt your head, confused frown that makes him bite back a smile. “what does that even mean?? where else would i be? are you high?” “high on you, babe” lmao yeah he won't tell you how horrible and scary and wrong it was to see your body get so still and your eyes suddenly unwilling to open and your hands not squeezing his back no matter how much he screamed and called for you and cursed and cried. why would he? porco can discern reality from fantasy. as you jokingly poke his side with your sock-clad foot and laugh as he grabs it to nibble at your ankle, he's grateful af for his reality :)

reiner instantly wakes you up lol he's too shaken to think straight and can't handle the pounding of his heart nor the cold sweat coating his forehead tbh. you freak out as well bc he looks like shit so you think he's not feeling well -> it's 30 entire seconds of back and forth (“are you okay?” “are you okay??” “why are you shaking???” “why are you sweating????”) until you can sense his stress is about to grow into a full on anxiety attack and you take his giant, cold, clammy hands in yours, squeezing hard enough to ground him. “baby, breathe with me. i'm right here, okay? just like that. deep and slow”. it doesn't matter that he squeezes back hard enough to hurt you. “you're doing great! wanna count with me?”. he closes his eyes and you both count to ten out loud, three times before he looks at you again and the crude fear that was in his gaze is long gone, leaving space to relief and slight embarrassment. “don't apologize” you cut him off right as his lips part “are you okay? can you wait for me? i'll go grab some water and—” he interrupts you right back by slotting his mouth to yours, with a kiss so feverish your brain shortcircuits. deaf to your protests, he will keep murmuring nonsense against your lips, an endless progression of i'm sorry, you're fine, i'm sorry, i love you, thank god, i love you so much. when you're allowed to catch your breath at last he presses one last kiss to your forehead and you're finally able to connect the dots. much like armin, he doesn't enjoy being so weak and emotional so often around you, but he also knows you feel strongly about him being so hard on himself. you won't have it. so reiner silently accepts and is oh so grateful for each sweet reassuring word you whisper to the shell of his ear, knowing all too well that nightmares have nothing on your i'm here and i'm never leaving and i know i'm safe with you

[lovelaurs]

may i request a mcd Laurance or Travis (or both??) x reader fic where reader is on their period and having like super bad cramps and overheating and Laur and/or Trav are just trying their absolute best to help??

also just wanna say i adore your fics!! i absolutely loved the last one you wrote from my request (he/him lesbian laur x aroace aph), its was literal perfection <3

LOOKING AFTER YOU

pairing : mystreet travis, laurance x gn reader synopsis : your boyfriend takes care of you while you're on your period! tags : periods, cramps, comfort, cuddling, support word count : 1.2k | around 550 words for each one! a/n : as someone who ends up reading comfort fics of my favorite characters comforting me on my period while cramping, i thought this was a really fun request to right! hopefully this can bring some comfort to someone while they're in pain! - just going to clarify that this is still gender neutral! the only thing that is physically canon within this is having a period, but that does not define the gender of the reader!

MASTERLIST

Like clockwork, your time of the month had come.

I mean, it wasn’t like you were that shocked, as your calendar predicted it would come any day now. But… did it have to be today? Really? The day that you and your boyfriend were planning on going on a date?

I mean, come on!

You hadn’t even gone to the bathroom to check the bloody mess you probably caused, knowing you’d have to move around to clean it.

And your bones just ached.

You found yourself lying in bed, groaning, as a familiar voice knocked at your door.

Shit.

TRAVIS

“Hey, babe? You okay?” Travis called from behind the door.

A particular strong cramp hit you just as you were about to respond, causing your voice to waver and sound almost cracked.

“Y-Yep! Just peachy…”

There was a bit of silence as Travis processed how you sounded.

After a few seconds passed, he asked. “Can I come in?” He slowly turned the handle, ready to open the door but pausing to hear your response.

“Fine…” The word was drawn out, mumbled as you turned to your other side, squeezing your pillow.

As he opened the door, he saw you curled up on your bed, your hair frizzy after the amount of tossing and turning you’ve done ever since you woke up.

He quickly rushed over to the side of the bed, kneeling down. “What’s wrong?” He worriedly put a hand to your forehead, looking for a temperature. “Do you feel overheated?”

“No need, Travis. I’m not sick.” You made what sounded to be an inhuman noise as you turned over onto your other side to face him. “I’m just on my period. These cramps are killing me.”

He blinked twice before running to the bathroom, opening up the bottom cabinet and frantically looking for any menstruation products he could find.

He came back with boxes of tampons and pads stacked in his hands, laying them down on your dresser. He began lifting each up, reading the labels to find ones for heavy flow for your first day.

“Let’s see… thin, overnight, swimming…” He kept looking over the boxes, picking up several ones that seemed good for first day flows. “Do you want pads or tampons?”

You groaned out your answer and he nodded, grabbing the box and placing it next to you on the nightstand.

You grabbed his arm and pulled him in, wanting a sense of pressure (his arms) around you. 

Travis got the message almost instantly and crawled across the bed, curling in next to you.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and putting pressure on the exact spot you needed it most.

As he put his head into the crook of your neck, he snuggled against you. “You know, you’re going to have to get up eventually.”

You frowned at the thought. “But I don’t want to walk to the bathroom…” You groaned, stuffing your face into the pillow. 

“Well then.” He released you from his arms and got off the bed. “How about I just carry you there?” “What-”

Before you could answer, the man already picked you up, passing you the box you chose earlier, and walked towards the bathroom.

“T-Travis! What are you doing?”

He smiled at you as he placed you down on the lidded toilet seat. “You said you didn’t want to walk over here, right? Well, problem solved.” He then turned the shower on, making sure it was just the right temperature before he headed to the door. “I’ll go make your bed so we can cuddle when you’re out. And if you need anything else, don’t be afraid to ask, okay?”

“But what about our date-”

“Don’t worry, we can always reschedule.” He reached for the door handle, winking at you. “Besides, I prefer to spend the rest of the day cuddling with you instead!”

LAURANCE

“Laurance…” You groaned his name from your bed.

He slowly opened the door at your call, worriedly peaking in before pushing the door open.

As he looked at you curled up in a ball, he sat on the side of the bed, petting your head. “Cramps, huh?”

You nodded, inhaling sharply as your insides felt like they were twisting.

“I’m going to get you some Advil and heat up your heating pad, alright?” He wasted no time and quickly made his way out of the room, heading for the kitchen.

He hurriedly put the heating pad in the microwave and fetched you the bottle of Advil from the cabinet. He tapped his foot as he hummed a tune, waiting for the heating pad to finish heating up in the microwave.

On his way back, he made sure to grab a water bottle too. He didn’t want you to get dehydrated now, did he?

It wasn’t long before he came back to your room with both hands full of the items, smiling warmly.

It felt like Irene truly blessed you by giving you such a caring man.

He helped you sit up, opening the bottle cap for you and passing you the water as you took the medicine, before finally placing the heating pad on your abdomen. You couldn’t help but sigh as you leaned back against your pillow.

This man would hold the world up for you if it meant you were comfortable, huh?

You scooched in, patting the space next to you, welcoming Laurance into your bed.

He giggled at the sight before laying down next to you, pulling the covers over himself. Laurance quickly wrapped his hands around your waist, holding you tightly. The pressure against you felt almost heaven sent.

“You know, I think this is better than going out on a date.” He nuzzled his face into your hair. “Just the two of us cuddling in bed for who knows how long… I prefer it like this.”

You hummed onto the sheets, before turning yourself around so you could shove your face into his neck. “Mhm… I’m sorry for ruining our date, though.”

Laurance snickered. “How is this your fault in the first place? What, did you manually turn a bleeding switch on or something?”

“No… it’s just that we had everything planned out, with reservations and-”

“Well, we can have just as much fun at home compared to going out to eat.” Laurance grinned, pulling out his phone and opening YouTube. “We can have our own make-shift date right now! Do you want to watch something to help distract you from your cramps?”

You snuggled closer to your boyfriend, humming in agreement as you begin to watch a bunch of funny cat videos.

By the time the videos finished, your Advil had kicked in and you were feeling way better.

You turned to tell Laurance but found him fast asleep, head against your shoulder, breathing softly.

He looked downright adorable.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you took a picture of him like this… right?

You reached over him, trying to get your phone from the nightstand, when all of the sudden you hear him stir, mumbling your name.

With his arms still around you, you were pulled down against the bed as he pulled you to his chest. 

The way his arms slid around your back just felt too good to be true.

He makes your cramps just a little bit better.

@lovelaurs, 2024. do not repost this work in any way!

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 10: ROLEPLAY

captain john price x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.0k words

summary: rocked by the deployment of your husband, you strike up an unlikely supportive relationship with a captain at his base...

cw: f!reader. cheating, consistent references to the reader's husband, star-crossed lovers vibes, fingering (?), supportive and mild dirty talk, p in v sex mention.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 11: BREEDING KINK ⇾

You don’t mean to rely on Captain Price so much during your husband’s deployment. Complete mischance. As though you’d tripped and fell into his office– However, it also feels inescapable. 

Written in the stars that you would happen to find him that day. 

Tear stricken, burdened with the grief of struggling to maintain a healthy lifestyle since your husband flew out to Urzikstan. The weeks without contact, persistent distress without certainty that he was alive– it was all unbearable. 

When Price had found you practically prostrating yourself before the barracks in a desperate attempt to petition for some news about your husband’s condition, you were certain he’d throw you off the grounds. When he’d taken you into his arms, informing you he wasn’t at liberty to divulge such sensitive information, you’d been thankful for the kindness he’d offered. Compassionate eyes tracing your face as he gently wiped your tears away with combat-marred palms, John had eased the ache that had been burdening you since deployment day. 

You try to convince yourself it isn’t often… But in truth you find yourself visiting every day.

Find the length of time he holds your hands to comfort you extend far past what was reasonable. He laces your fingers together, warming the outside of your wedding band, and squeezing gently in a silent acknowledgement of your loneliness… Even if it was beginning to feel a whole lot less isolating with him. 

Find yourself touching him more. You reach to fix his collar when you leave, playfully reminding him that he needed to keep his uniform straight. Picking fluff from his shoulder, straightening that ridiculous hat he always wore. Any excuse to find a way to hold him, to feel that warmth.

Soon, you find yourself relying on him to fill the void of the bed that your husband's deployment had left behind. Inevitable. Those comforting eyes, the ever present physical comfort John offered you– It felt natural to want to feel that beneath bed sheets, to feel the warmth of his kisses elsewhere than your lips. It’s constant, night after night. Soon he stops knocking on the door and lets himself in, stops asking where to find a glass to give you some water. It’s familiar, domestic even. It’s guilt-inducing. 

The scratch of John’s beard between your thighs feels like penance for this cardinal sin. You assumed the scratches you’d gouged into his back had the same effect when he stood in the shower following your trysts. A painful reminder of your husband in Urzikstan, unwitting to his wife’s disloyalty. Her desperation. 

Truthfully, you wish the shame was enough to stop, to call off this affair and refocus your affections. It wasn’t. 

“John,” You whimper as he presses his thumb into your spit soaked clit, pressing slow, messy kisses to the bare skin of your hip. He’s deliberate, circling the swollen nerves with the pinpoint precision bestowed upon an expert marksman. When your hips stutter upwards, seeking more friction, you feel the enamel of his teeth against your hip bone, a small smile pulling on his lips. 

“Yes, Love?” His answer is drawn out, voice husky, and it makes the walls of your pussy clench desperately. When you glance to him, his sapphire irises remain trained on the looseness of your jaw, the shapes your lips make when he drags his thumbprint jussst right–

“Oh my god,” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut when he presses another tender, almost loving kiss to your stomach, his beard scraping your skin. Like flint striking stone, sparks skitter along your nerves, fizzling across synapses. “Fuck fu– don’t stop–”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” John’s tongue traces over the dip of your public bone, barely missing your clit and nearly reducing you to tears with how you want to kiss him– to tell him how hopelessly you love him. It’s twisted and fucked up and utterly deplorable but, oh, you love him. The tingling bliss at your clit pinpoints, and your eyes squeeze closed, your eyebrows pulling in, “Yeah, is that it? Come on, Love, That’s it. That’s it.” 

He tightens the circles he’s drawing on your throbbing clit, moving his thumb faster to close in on his target and relishing in the writhing of your body, the heaviness of your breathing and the tightness of your fingers in his cropped hair. You rock your hips to match his, your own pace stuttering as your arousal arcs violently.

Your walls squeeze around nothing, the tightly drawn circles rubbing against your clit practically snapping you in half with the force of your orgasm. It spiders through your limbs, prickling heat forcing your back from the mattress with a wail of John’s name. He kisses at your skin throughout the devastating flood of hormones, murmuring gentle encouragement. 

“That’s it, Love. So good for me.” 

You can’t deny it anymore, can’t refute the indisputable. You love him– utterly adore the man that practically lays himself at your feet in order to brighten your day. Given the bemused expressions his team would give him when you exited his office, you’d guessed such effort was abnormal for him. Reserved only for you– even if he knew you could never offer him the same unconditional affection. 

Glancing to your rings, wedding band and diamond engagement ring strewn haphazardly across the bedside table, the threat of tears prickles your eyes. 

“Hey,” you hear John mumble softly, his beard scraping your skin as he pressed gentle, loving kisses against your cheekbone, “Where’re you going? Need you here with me, Love.”

Closing your eyes for just a moment, you rid your mind of your husband. Shove the memory of him into a box in the far corner of your mind as you cradle the face of the man you love, offering him a gentle smile when you look into the sapphire of his irises. 

“I’m here,” you murmur. 

“Good,” he mumbles back, the edges of his eyes crinkling when you let out a soft gap, the head of his cock gently pushing inside of your slick pussy. 

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh @km-ffluv @decaffeinateddinosauronearth @domaniquessidehoe2 @arrozyfrijoles23 @amisouki @sleepysheepsstuff @chunguk @lundenloves @marylovesdilfs @ninahhh-brahh @namelesshumanperson @limegreenbabx @doggydale @wiltedwonderland @justsayk @pennachilles @harrypotter-loveboat @skeleton-island

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 5

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, mentions of physical abuse, loss of a child, and general trauma.

Word Count: 4.0K

Author's Note:

This is the first part of what I anticipate will be a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

That night, you barely slept. Each time you moved, it felt like a searing poker stabbed through your midsection, and even the smallest movements caused pain somewhere in your body. Instead, you slept in short bursts, and during the wakeful moments, you stared at the ceiling, making out the carvings in the beams above you, stars, mountains, maps, animals. Seemingly all scratched delicately into the ceiling beams above you.

The night’s shadows slowly gave way to the morning sunlight as it drifted across the floor, over the furs on your bed, and crested your face. From outside the window, you heard the chatter of men’s voices and laughter, though you couldn’t make out any distinct conversations. As the morning waned, you heard the more frequent sound of metal on metal—sword fighting, you assumed—glancing at the swords propped onto the fireplace mantel. Grunts, groans, and occasional raucous laughter drifted through the window, along with the smell of cooked food, which made your stomach growl angrily. You allowed yourself to shut your eyes for a while, the warmth of the sun warming your cheeks. Then you heard a light rap on the door. 

You opened your eyes, turning to the door to hear a small voice call out, “Can I come in?” When you didn’t respond, it called out again, “I have your breakfast.” 

Without waiting for a response, the door opened slightly, and a woman poked her head through the door. At first, you noticed her hair, pulled into a bun on the back of her head, with a piece of orange scrap fabric tied around her hairline to pull it back from her face. Then you realized what her face looked like. She had the same tanned, olive skin tone as Azriel, but her face was more scar than skin. Her right eye, which had a turquoise hue, was surrounded by pink scar tissue, looking like a mixture of a burn and a slash, extending almost completely down the right side of her face and branching out to her nose and lips. The left side of her face, while also scarred, was not nearly as jarring as the right. She flashed you a small smile before entering the room. She pushed the door closed behind her with her foot as you took in the rest of her form. 

Like Azriel, she had large bat wings, but they had cuts and scars like her face, and in a few areas, it looked as though there were holes in the membrane between the bones. She wore a dark brown tunic with a tie at the waist that covered most of her up to her neck. Her arms were wrapped in cotton bandages with brown and red stains from wear. You couldn’t tell if she was wounded or if she wore the bandages for warmth, as the sleeves of her tunic were ratty and tattered. She wore a pair of oversized lighter brown pants, tucked into short boots with holes, patched with pieces of fabric. All in all, she looked like she had walked through a battlefield before coming in. When you saw the container of berries sitting atop what looked like a bowl of steaming oatmeal, you disregarded her appearance, your mouth salivating at the sight of the delicious red and blue juices already seeping in. 

The female didn’t look at you, only seeming to stare down at the bowls in her hand as she approached. Deep within her eyes was something long lost, and though you couldn’t place what it was, you knew that your eyes also held the same longing. When she reached your bedside, the distinct smell of an unbathed body hit you, and the dirt caked under her fingernails made you question the care you’d received. Your trust in Azriel waned slightly.

She ran her thumb over the lip of the bowl, sucking her own pale, chapped, and peeling lip into her teeth before speaking, barely over a whisper. “Azriel asked me to bring this to you.” 

She offered the bowl towards you, and through a wince, you raised your hands to take it. “Thank you,” you rasped.

The female turned her mouth up slightly, still looking towards the floor as she rested the bowl on the side of the bed. She brought her hands back to clasp in front of her, idly picking at a scab on the back of her hand that looked reddened and angry. She opened her mouth to speak and then paused, her eyes scanning the floor. “I’m supposed to look at your ribs,” she said.

Silence fell heavily in the room. “Alright,” you finally said.

More silence. “I can leave, let you have breakfast, and then come back.” She looked at you, still not meeting your eyes. Without saying anything, she turned to walk out, but you called out, telling her to stop.

“Would you—” you started. “Would you mind staying?”

The female turned to look over her shoulder, still casting her gaze downward. “Yes,” she whispered. She returned to the bedside, standing over you, hands fidgeting as she continued scratching at her already open wounds. You pulled the breakfast onto your stomach, shifting slightly, which caused a sharp pain to shoot through you. Your wincing made the female shy away slightly, as though your pain was her own. You brought one of the fresh berries to your mouth, the sweet juices already staining your fingers pink. As you let it settle on your tongue, the sourness made the back of your mouth tighten and salivate. Crushing the berry against the roof of your mouth, an explosion of sweetness coated your taste buds, and you momentarily forgot your predicament. You let your stained hand drop to the bed in berry-ridden ecstasy before turning to the female next to you. “Would you like one?” you offered, holding the bowl of berries out to her.

The female looked at the offer, her tongue slightly parting her lips as she debated. She quickly shook her head no, returning her gaze to the floor.

“Are you sure?” you asked again. “There’s no way I can eat all of these.” The female still didn’t respond. “And I would hate for them to go to waste,” you continued.

She raised her head slightly, scanning your face for any underlying meaning or trickery. When she found none, she tentatively reached out and plucked the smallest berry from your bowl, quickly bringing it to her mouth. You smiled. “Have another,” you offered, throwing another berry into your own mouth.

“That’s okay,” the female said, gesturing a thankful refusal.

You chewed the berry. “Then at least sit,” you offered, using your head to gesture to the wooden stool near the wall.

Without responding, the female went and sat on the stool, without moving it towards you. “You can pull it closer,” you offered.

Eyes widening at the request, she stared ahead before gulping, standing quickly, grabbing the chair, and bringing it over to sit next to you, her eyes firmly planted on the mattress. You continued to eat, looking her over. She seemed young, around your age, maybe a few years younger, and skinny. Her cheekbones were prominent even with the scar, and her eyes were shadowed and slightly sunken. Her hands, covered in tiny nicks and scabs, were merely bone with skin clinging to them. You wondered if the rest of her body was as emaciated. You offered the bowl to her again, and she refused.

Resigning yourself to her refusal, you finally said, “I’m Y/N.”

The female paused slightly, then peered at you under her brows, head bowed. “Anthea,” she returned, barely over a whisper.

“It’s nice to meet you, Anthea.” The female merely nodded as you handed her the bowl of berries and oatmeal. “Would you mind putting this on the table?”

Anthea took the bowl and placed it on the table before returning her clasped hands to her lap. You waited, thinking she might say something, but after about a minute of silence, you realized you two might spend the entire day just staring at each other.

“How can I best lay for you to look at me?” you asked. For the first time, Anthea looked up, assessing your body.

“What hurts most?” she asked.

You laughed slightly. “What doesn’t?”

Anthea’s lips lightly raised at the corners, not quite a smile but hinting at one. “Azriel told me your left side is shattered. If you don’t mind, I think turning you on your right would be best.”

You nodded, gulping down the thought that even moving your arms caused pain, and rolling on your side might just kill you. Anthea rose from her stool, standing at the end of the bed while you winced and pushed yourself up slightly. “I can help if you’d like,” she offered.

“I think I’ll need it,” you responded.

Anthea carefully pulled back the blankets, exposing your bandaged torso to the cool air. She slid one hand gingerly under your left thigh, the other resting between your shoulder blades. “Breathe in deeply,” she instructed. As you did, she pressed lightly, pushing you upwards, sending pain shooting down your sides. “Now breathe out.” As you did, she rolled you onto your right side, legs turning first followed by your torso. You let out a wail, but Anthea didn’t seem to mind as she steadied you.

“Alright,” she cooed. You still breathed through the intense pain as she quickly ran around the bed, pulling your right arm out from under you and pressing a pillow to your chest. “I know it hurts, but it’s over now.”

You let out a few ragged breaths as she pushed your hair from your face, quickly pulling a ribbon from her pocket and tying it back with steady, calm hands.

She looked down the length of your body, examining what she could without moving you before saying, “I have to take the bandages down.” You nodded.

Without asking, Anthea pulled the sheet up from your side to cover the front half of your chest. She placed your left arm over it so it wouldn’t move, prioritizing modesty, which you appreciated. She set to work unwrapping the bandages from your midsection. While painful, she did it carefully, with tact and precision. If you winced, she stopped immediately and let you catch your breath. When she finally undid all the bandages, she readjusted the blanket, pulling a fur up your legs to cover your now exposed hips. Like a surgeon, she separated your wounds from the rest of your body.

“It looks better than it did,” she finally said.

You glanced down to see your entire ribcage and side an angry purple and red. Splotches of reddened skin pooled near the edges of the deep purple, and you could almost make out the lines of your ribs where the purple verged on black. “How bad was it before?” you asked.

Anthea looked at your face. “You could see the bones poking up at your skin.”

The image made you shudder as you turned your gaze forward.

“I’m going to press lightly on some of them to make sure they’re healing correctly,” Anthea warned. You nodded. She pressed her cold fingers onto your skin, and you jumped away at first, but she ran her fingers down the length of each bone. While the pressure caused discomfort, it wasn’t painful. “It seems like everything is fused again,” she noted, “and to the correct bone. It’s just bruised and swollen.”

Anthea began rewrapping your torso, taking care not to shake you. Neither of you spoke until she finished and helped you turn back onto your back. You gave her a soft smile. “Thank you,” you offered.

Her mouth turned up slightly, not quite a smile. “You’re welcome.” She went to the other side of the bed, grabbed the bowl, and made her way to leave.

“Anthea, wait.”

The female stopped and turned. “Yes?” she asked.

You paused, considering your request. “Can you stay? Just for a little.”

Anthea looked at the window, where the clashing of swords still took place, hesitating before looking back at your pleading eyes and nodding. She placed the bowl back on the table and sat on the stool. “Thank you,” you said.

Anthea just nodded.

“I just… I haven’t been around a female in a while, and it’s nice.”

Anthea looked at your face and then down at her hands, picking at the scabs. “I understand,” she finally said.

A silence hung between the two of you.

You swallowed, then asked, “Where are we?”

“Frostvale,” she responded.

“The river?”

“The camp.”

You hadn’t heard of any camps named after the river before, though you hadn’t been down here in a long time. “What sort of camp?”

“A training camp.”

“Training for who?” you asked.

Anthea looked up, seemingly confused. “Soldiers.”

You frowned. “Illyrian soldiers?”

Anthea nodded. “Yes, the soldiers of the Night Court.”

The name was familiar. You remembered hearing about the infamous Illyrian soldiers when you were a child in Velaris. But after your mother moved you to the woods to escape your father, your education had been limited to practical knowledge rather than history.

Anthea watched you, realizing you were trying to piece things together. “The Illyrians set up this camp about half a century ago to be closer to the coast.”

“Are there many camps?” you asked.

“Yes, though there are more since the Battle of Hybern.”

You decided not to ask about the battle, fearing it might worsen your headache. “Are all of you soldiers?”

Anthea shook her head. “No. Females aren’t soldiers here.”

“So what do you do?”

Anthea pulled her lip between her teeth, causing it to bleed slightly. “Laundry, cooking, cleaning,” she paused, “caring for the soldiers.”

“Are you a nurse?” you asked.

She shook her head. “No, I’m not a healer. We don’t have healers here.”

You considered her response, unsure what to ask next. “Do you all have wings?”

“Illyrians are born with them, yes.”

You wanted to ask about her tattered wings but decided it was too personal. “Who is Azriel?”

Anthea looked behind her, as if expecting him to appear. You couldn’t tell if it was fear or general distrust. “He is an Illyrian.”

“Is he a soldier?” you asked.

“Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

Anthea hesitated. “He is trained as a soldier, but he isn’t here often. He just comes sometimes.”

“Does he work for another camp?”

“I don’t know.”

You gulped down some fear. “Is he safe?”

Anthea didn’t look up. “I don’t know.”

A weight settled on you as Anthea quickly stood, grabbing the bowl. “I have chores.” She turned to leave but paused at the door. “Thank you for the berries,” she said, then quickly shut the door behind her.

When she was finally gone, and you could no longer hear her footsteps, you relaxed slightly. With your ribs no longer broken, only swollen and bruised, you figured you’d be well enough to move in a few days. Given what you had seen of Anthea, who looked as though no one had ever cared for her, you had no intention of sticking around to find out whether Azriel was as safe as he seemed.

A few hours passed, and you found yourself dozing off and on, accompanied by the clanging of metal outside and the light crackling of the fire at the end of the bed. You ran your fingers along the handle of the knife you kept next to you, contemplating your next move.

When mid-afternoon came, you roused yourself from sleep to a gentle tapping at the door, followed by it opening. In the doorway stood Azriel, holding a tray, a light smile playing on his face. His wings were pulled tightly behind him. Instead of his usual attire, Azriel now wore what looked to be armored leather with intricate detailing of swirls, almost vine-like. His chest plate bore the same detailing, splattered with mud, suggesting he had been out with the others earlier. He wore black leather pants, also mud-covered, and appeared to have lost or taken off his weapon belt. Blue stones were embedded in his armor, perhaps signifying rank.

“Afternoon,” he said. “Thought I’d bring you some lunch, see how you’re faring.” He crossed the room and placed the tray on the side table.

You eyed the tray, the smell of roasted meat and vegetables making your mouth water. Azriel pulled the stool up to the side of the bed. “Anthea told me you’re healing up.”

You nodded slightly, your hand closing around the base of the knife hidden beneath the blankets.

“Good,” Azriel noted. A silence fell between you, as if he expected a verbal response. When you didn’t reply, he turned to the tray. “Here,” he said, picking it up and handing it to you, placing it on your legs. You had managed to hoist yourself up to lean against the headboard, clearly beginning to find your footing after your bones had healed.

On the tray was a piece of cooked meat with a dark berry sauce, alongside earthy vegetables and a grain mixture with herbs. Azriel rubbed his hands together before pointing at the various items. “This is grilled venison with a berry sauce. Anthea said you enjoyed the raspberries, so I added some of that. These are turnips, carrots, and sweet potato, all on top of a barley pilaf.” He pulled his hands back to his lap, rubbing his thighs slightly. “Please, eat.”

You hesitantly picked up the fork and took a bite. While the flavors were subtle and crude, the warmth of the meat and spices made the meal passable. “I’m sorry,” Azriel said, “I did the best I could with what the cooks had prepared for today.”

“You made this?” you asked, chewing.

“Well, I made the sauce and seasoned the meat a bit more. I can’t take full credit for the cooking.”

You smiled a bit, taking another bite. “Thank you.”

Azriel smiled back, pleased to see you eating. “No, it’s nothing.”

He didn’t leave, instead remaining perched on the stool. You didn’t say anything, continuing to eat.

“So, I think you should be healing up soon,” he finally said.

You nodded in agreement, taking a few sips of water.

“Has anything come back? Memories, I mean.”

You shook your head no. You had decided that even if they had, unless it had anything directly to do with him, you would keep those to yourself. While bringing you in, nursing you, and preparing special meals was kind, you knew too much of the world and the ways of males to easily trust their kindness.

Azriel nodded slightly. “I guess we’ll just keep an eye on you.”

You glanced at him from the side of your eyes.

“Anthea likes you,” he said.

“She’s sweet,” you replied.

Azriel smiled lightly. “Yeah.”

You considered speaking, wondering if this idle conversation was worth it, knowing you’d be gone in a few days. “Anthea said she’s a laundress.”

Azriel nodded. “Yeah, she does laundry and helps out around the camp.”

“A battle camp,” you said, wiping a bit of the sauce from the side of the plate and sucking it off your thumb.

Azriel watched intently. “A training camp.”

“Training for what?”

“Battle, I guess.”

You handed him the tray, and he placed it back on the table. “Are there battles to be fought?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Then why do you need a training camp?”

“In case there is a battle.”

You stopped asking questions, nodding slightly.

“Did you hit your head that hard?” Azriel asked.

“I haven’t been particularly involved in the affairs of the courts these past few years.”

Azriel frowned, confused. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not from around here.”

“Where are you from?”

“Not here.”

“I gathered that.” Azriel leaned back, dragging his hand through his black hair. “I mean, more specifically, where did you come from?”

You sucked your teeth slightly to pull a spare raspberry seed from between them. “The mountains.”

“The Illyrian mountains?”

“Yes.”

“You’re from the Illyrian mountains and don’t know about the training camps?” He sounded more like he was stating a fact than asking a question.

“Not all of us are so involved in your world.”

Azriel paused, leaning forward on his thighs. “I’m sorry. I just assumed if you were from the mountains, you would know about them.”

“Guess I never came across you or your kind.”

Azriel stared into your eyes, searching for answers. “I’m curious about you,” he finally said.

You said nothing in response.

“You’re a bit of an enigma.”

You still said nothing.

Azriel continued to stare, your cheeks reddening with the awkwardness. Finally, you spoke. “I guess I could say the same about you.”

“Ask me any questions you want,” he said.

You leered at him, crossing your arms and wincing slightly. “Who are you?”

“Azriel.”

“Yes, but who is Azriel?”

“I am an Illyrian.”

“Because of your wings.”

“Yes, wings are a trait of my people.”

“You’re a soldier?”

“I am trained to be a soldier, yes.”

“But you aren’t a soldier.”

“I hold no authority over the soldiers.”

“So you just like to come spend time here?”

“No, I was sent here.”

“By who?”

“Rhysand.”

You paused, recognizing the name. Azriel continued, “Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.”

Oh. That’s why you recognized it. You suddenly felt much more uncomfortable, realizing you were in the presence of someone with significant power.

“You are his...?”

“Spymaster.”

You deduced the implications. “And you come here often to spy?”

“I come here to report back on troop progress.”

“But you aren’t a soldier.”

“No, I am just trained as one.” He paused. “Do I get to ask you questions?” he asked.

“I can’t promise I’ll answer them all,” you replied after a moment.

“Of course.” He thought for a second. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N.”

“We’ve established that. You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I’m a fae female from the mountains.”

Azriel scanned your face, searching for something. “Why were you leaving?”

You stared back at him, a moment passed. “That’s not your business.”

Azriel looked into you, almost too deep into you, and suddenly you felt like you were drowning a bit. “Fair,” he responded.

You asked, “Who is Anthea?”

Azriel paused. “We’ve been over her.”

“No,” you started, “You know what I mean.”

Azriel leaned back again, looking skywards as though searching for the words. “Anthea is an Illyrian female,” he paused, “who is from a very traditional family.”

“Define traditional,” you pried.

Azriel paused again. “Illyrian women are not treated as equals to the males.”

You just stared into him.

“And Anthea is unfortunately serving the role of a very traditional female in an Illyrian society.”

You gulped down the anger and bile rising in your throat. “Unfortunately?”

Azriel peered into you again. “Yes,” he said. “Her life is not easy. Nor is it fair.”

You looked towards the fireplace.

“The night in the tavern,” Azriel started. You felt your heart beat pause. “You were screaming in your sleep.” You did not look at him. “You were saying the name Caelum.”

Your heart picked up speed, and before Azriel could continue, you pulled the knife from under the blanket, pointing it at him. “Get out.” You warned, your eyes hardened, blackening as you felt the bile rising higher in your throat.

Azriel threw his hands up. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“I don’t know what you intend,” you shot back. “Get. Out.”

Azriel nodded, standing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

Before he could finish, you pointed the knife towards the door. “Get out.”

Azriel’s face faltered for a moment, a look of disappointment and shame flashed across it before he turned and left the room. You didn’t drop the knife until your heart stopped feeling as though it would pound from your chest. Even then, you gripped it too close to the blade in your frenzy, and blood slowly ran down your wrist, dripping onto the fur beneath it. You would not utter that name. You would not speak it into existence.

As always, I want to take the time to thank the wonderful readers who have asked to tagged. You have made this such a fun series to write and I am so excited to continue on with it.

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt

[princeoftheeternalbog]

Helloooo, I’m not sure if you still do requests on One Piece characters or anything- but if you do I have a scenario in mind. I was wondering if you could do one specifically with Traflagar Law who has a S/O which gets injured and refuses his help. The S/O has a problem with accepting help and has trouble being vulnerable in front of others- only seeing it as weakness. This could also work for the other more colder One Piece characters…cause idk they just have a special place in my heart. (Though if you can’t that’s okay, but I thought I’d ask)

ALSO I read lots of your posts and absolutely love your scenarios and head-cannons, you literally portray all the characters so well and it’s amazing.

This is the cutest ask and thank you omg😭

I hope this is good🫶

And little trigger warning for descriptions of injury and blood at the beginning, I'll put a line so you know where to skip to if you don't want to read that bit.

I totally accidentally posted this so now I'm writing as it's up, forgive me😞 OKAY IT'S IN A FINISHED STATE I MAY ADD MORE AFTER I FORCE MY FRIEND TO READ OVER IT🕺🏻🕺🏻

I don't know if I'm happy with the length either i kinda feel it should be longer.

-

The soft, shlick of a blade through flesh rings in your ears. The adrenaline rushing through your body swallows any pain in an instant, but you can feel the pressure as it drags into your side and you wince anyway.

But you can't stop.

If you stop he's going to get past, he's going to hurt the people you call a family and so you can't stop.

His frame is hulking, freakishly tall and looming over you. The level of brute force he's exerting has your heart stuttering in fear, the staccato rhythm making you feel light headed. Though that could be the blood that's dripping from your side.

You hit his sternum, hard, and feel a crack. He stumbles, dazed, your fist comes up to head height and your aim is killer as it slams into the side of the man's head.

He's out cold.

The sigh of relief that exits your body almost overshadows the sudden pain resonating throughout your torso. Without an oncoming threat, you're able to take the time to lift your shirt and look at the damage. It's mostly mottled bruising but just under your lowest left rib is a long but shallow cut. Not life threatening in any way but still inconvenient.

It hurts to breathe and you're not sure if your rib bones are fully intact either, not with the way he was hitting.

The adrenaline is fading quickly, you needed to get him inside.

He'd crumpled into a very ungraceful pile when you knocked him out and it's difficult to tie him securely. But you do. And then you take a deep breath and haul him up over your shoulders in a botched fireman's lift.

Your captain would want to find out who decided it would be a good idea to send someone after the heart pirates.

Your captain would...

The last thing you think about before you hit the deck face first is him.

-

He's silent as he works.

It's almost unnerving actually, how quiet he can be when he wants to.

"Law-"

The look he shoots you is so intense that you physically shrink back, mouth closing as you drop your gaze to the floor.

He lets out a heavy sigh as he finishes disinfecting the last of his tools before he turns to you.

"What is wrong with you."

He's angry, you can feel it radiating off him, it digs into the soft underbelly of your emotions and you bristle at his words.

"I was just doing my job" Your tone is sharp but he doesn't flinch.

"Your job does not involved getting killed you idiot."

"Well I didn't get killed so it's not that big of a deal"

He looks like he's about to blow a gasket, the vein in his forehead pulsing with the renewed blood flow.

"Not a big deal? Not a big deal?"

You have the distinct feeling that you might've fucked up a little. That still doesn't stop you from digging a deeper hole to be buried in.

"I'm fine just let me deal with my own problems"

His eye actually twitches but you keep talking.

"It's barely a scratch, I don't need help- especially not yours."

The thunderous anger on his face is now accompanied by hurt, but his voice is soft when he says,

"Let me help you"

"I just said I don't need help"

"I don't think that you know what you need"

That stings. To know he doesn't trust your judgement after everything you've been through. There's a pressure at the back of your throat now and it's so uncomfortable, you need to leave.

But as you go to move, Law is much quicker as he grabs you by your upper arm, pulling you into his space.

"Where are you going"

You don't look at him.

He sighs before his other arm comes around your waist and he lifts, walking across the room to set you down onto a table.

"Why don't you understand that I care about you"

The emotion in his voice unsettles you, makes your chest feel tight and you really don't want to deal with this.

He's gentle as he gets to work on your injuries, easily cleaning and stitching up your side before moving to bind your ribs.

"I need you to remove your shirt"

Your hands are shaking, he hasn't really seen the full extent and you're sure he's not going to respond well. It's hard to get the buttons of your shirt undone so when a second pair of hands come up, you don't push them away. But him being closer means you hear the exact moment he realises how bad it is, his inhale is sharp and he says something in a language you don't know.

"Why didn't you call for backup?"

You take a while to respond, trying to squash down any emotion in your voice,

"I didn't need it"

"Did you want it?"

The question makes you squirm with discomfort, your eyes water.

"It doesn't matter because I didn't need it"

He sighs again. That's all you seem to be making him do today.

And then his arms are coming up around you, pulling you closer to the edge of the table and closer to him. One of his hands rests on your back and the other pushes your head into the crook of his shoulder, allowing you a semblance of privacy in such an intimate moment.

"You need to understand that not letting us help you is counterintuitive to being part of a crew"

The statement makes you flinch and you try to push away from him but that fight took a lot of your strength. His grip tightens anyways.

"Do you think I find it easy to be vulnerable?"

"...No"

"Do you think I would want you to die?"

You don't respond this time, chest heaving as you tremble.

"It's not easy to see you like this. You are not a human shield."

"I know" Your voice is quiet and thick with tears but he seems to relax slightly at your agreement.

The hand on your back is moving in gentle shapes, but his grip is still firm, as if he's trying to affirm that you're here and alive.

"I can't have a crew member that doesn't trust anyone"

You tense.

"I can't have a partner that won't be vulnerable with me"

Guilt and dread roll through your stomach. Surely he doesn't mean-

"I can't trust that you won't die because you feel can't rely on others so you're benched until we work through it"

Oh. You actually feel a bit relieved, you thought he was going in a much different direction. You lean back out of his hold so you can look at his face through wet eyes.

His expression is soft but he looks tired and the guilt rears it's head again.

"I'm sorry"

Somehow his expression gets even softer,

"I know"

He kisses you then. It's grounding, brings you back to a semblance of calm and you almost wonder why you were so apprehensive in the first place. He's gentle and warm and you feel slightly self conscious that your lips might be puffy from crying but you don't pull away.

It's reverent, like he worships you.

You think you could learn to let him take care of you.

You think you would let him do anything.

If it feels like this.

[la2yn0va]

Yo! Can i request a Yandere feixiao, Jingliu and Kafka (seperately, non self aware au) x male reader, who is a battle mania and enjoy fighting a little bit too much to the point that it consumes a great mayority of their life and doesn't really look for love or care for it. The reader is a gifted and powerful warrior that all he wants is to fight and grow stronger to the point that they want to fight or beat an Aeon. They learn just about anything tactics, medice and trained with every weapon they get their hands on. Unfournately they don't care about love thus making them dense.

Sure. (Just finished MOC.. okay not really, I have moc 12 left to bet. Also PLEASE!! Send me good luck for my feixiao pulls! Hel, make a deal with the devil even—IDC WHAT YOU DO!! JUST SEND ME LUCK!!! I WANT THIS WOMAN!!!!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feixiao

She hates it, god she despises it. Out of anyone in the universe, why did YOU have to be so dedicated to getting stronger.

She respects your dedication, but she fucking hates it. It makes it harder for you to fall for her. But it also makes her more CRAZY for you.

Her hints that go over your head? It doesn’t matter, she’ll just try harder and more blunter next time! Her physical touch simply coming off as platonic? She’ll be more bold.

Whenever you two spar, feixiao would purposely try to break some of your bones as to keep you beside her.

She’d often go for your ribs or knees, just to make it more painful for you if you try to walk away or LEAVE her.

Feixiao would tamper with your weapons before your fights, just so you can get saved by her OR to stop you from beating her anytime soon, which is a fear that’s slowly consuming her.

Feixiao isn’t stupid, she knows you’re extremely gifted in battle, she knows that every battle you slowly manage to get closer to beating her… then… you’ll leave her…

She’ll be useless, just another strong person who you fought! Just another step towards your goal… no, she won’t allow that to become reality.

Feixiao’s insanity for you completely overtakes her one night. She couldn’t sleep, the anxiety that you’ll leave her once you fight her tomorrow finally encased her.

She walks over towards your sleeping quarters and steals you away. She doesn’t see any other way to keep you around. You’re too fucking dense to see her lusting for you, so she’ll have to SHOW you.

She takes you somewhere secluded and ties you down and tapes your mouth shut. She smiles, can’t help but admire how peaceful and beautiful you look when you’re sleeping.

Some time later, when you wake up in a panic, a pang of guilt strikes her. She sees the fear in your eyes, the confusion and panic that replaced your normal demeanor.

Maybe… there’s another way…maybe she can manipulate this situation further…? She smiles and runs towards you with a concerned face, calling out your name and sliding towards you.

Seeing the confusion on your face slightly morph into relief and joy at seeing her made her feel euphoric. She kept her act up and ripped off the tape on your mouth.

Feixiao: M/N!! Thank god I found you!!

M/n: Ngh-!! F-feixiao?! What’s happening?! Where—!!

Before you could finish, feixiao lend in and began to kiss you. Your face contorted into shock and bafflement and slowly turning red.

Feixiao opened her eyes enough that you didn’t notice her opening them and she gets to look at your face. She felt herself getting closer to loosing the remaining control she had of herself. You were so fucking cute and adorable right now, but she managed to quell the heat in her, removing herself from your mouth and hugging you tightly.

Feixiao: I thought I lost you…! Don’t leave me…please… stay with me…!

^^^

Jingliu

She’s probably the perfect partner for you. She’s strong as shit, AND she wants to kill an aeon.

Jingliu would encourage your goal, and spar with you daily. And after your spar (where you’d lose) she’d always tease you playfully like she once did with the high cloud quintet.

Jingliu and you stay close everyday. And she thrives on it. Of course you’d stay with her! Who else is so closely aligned with you down to your goal? No way you’d leave her.

But then, there’s the darker side of her. The one that’s unhealthily possessive of you, the darker side of her love, her OBSESSION with you.

Jingliu can’t bear the mere THOUGHT of you being around someone else. The part she keeps locked tightly in a coffin deep inside her when your around. But when your not? The coffin is wide open.

Jingliu instantly goes and murders woman who so much as complimented your appearance. The fact that someone has an interest in you is a danger greater then a aeon attacking the cosmos, and she won’t let it stand.

She holds you tightly as you sleep, leaving marks on your body from how hard she held you. Her deepest fears of losing you like she did with baiheng consuming her.

The only person she’d trust you with is her partner luocha. The three of you have the same goal. Jill and aeon—Yaoshi. (Side note, anyone else ship jingliu and luocha?)

Luocha also has his work cut out for him. He has to deal with a battle hungry man and a yandere master swordswoman while working with them to kill Yaoshi. (F in the comments for my goat luocha)

Kafka

She likes it. Unlike feixiao who hates your obsession, she loves it, as it aligns with the stellaron hunters goal to kill nanook (that’s my theory, idk if it’s canon)

So she pretty much grooms you into becoming an unofficial member of the stellaron hunters. Kafka is the only one here who doesn’t care about hiding her obsession with you.

Kafka always keeps you close, even when she showers she somehow drags you in there with her (there’s your one horny moment)

-End-

Im sorry Kafka’s is short, i got a fuck ass, bitch ass, motherless and fatherless ass virus from my brother. Probably won’t post shit for a week till I’m sure this virus is gone.

And just in case you forgot (PLEASE!! Send me good luck for my feixiao pulls! Hel, make a deal with the devil even—IDC WHAT YOU DO!! JUST SEND ME LUCK!!! I WANT THIS WOMAN!!!!)

[bidisasterevankinard]

for the prompts can you do 1 and 8 I feel like they fit so good together

Nonnie, it's a little got way from me (1211 words) because I have strong Tommy feels so. here you are(I know it's not just fluff and I'm so sorry)

Sometimes there are days Tommy just doesn’t want to get up from the bed. It can be simply because he is exhausted after a long and hard shift or because it’s rainy, and cool wind, which walks all around, makes his bones and old wounds ache.  Those days are pretty easy to get through. Just take it easy, take painkillers, make sure you’re warm and watch Love, Actually in bed with cocoa. Simple and comfy.

But they're also days when he can’t get out of bed, not because of a little pain, or at least it’s not because of physical pain. There are days in his life when his head attacks him with memories of the army, or bad calls, or all the years he was looking for someone to love him, and, most importantly, for a reason to love himself. Because there were more than enough days he was rough, rude and just simply awful to himself. And all this darkness around him forever found a place in his heart and head, mainly staying low, being overpowered by his self-growth and reasons he founds to love himself anyway, by hanging outs with Eddie, sometimes with Chim and even Hen, and of course, by dates and smiles of Evan. 

Evan, this adorable dork, found the way to give him the sun to light his life enough that darkness is scared to get out. But it still is waiting for the moment when he will be too distracted and unprotected to hit again. 

Like today.

Yesterday was … a lot. He accidentally met his mother on the market where he went to get some good groceries for the meal he was planning to cook for Evan to make him feel good after the shift. The literal bumping into each other near the vegetables quickly became a screaming match, mostly from his mother’s part, because Tommy way long before stopped to try to to prove that just because he likes men, doesn't mean he's a bad person, or son, or chose the wrong way.  Eventually, he just ran away from there.

Then the dish he tried to make burned because he was too distracted crying in his bathroom. He had to order take out.

And then Evan texted him that he couldn't come tonight because they had a long and hard call, and the only thing he wanted was to fall into his bed.They changed plans from a little dinner together yesterday to spending all day together today. 

Yesterday ended as awful as it was all day. The nightmare of one of his close calls made him sleep badly after, turning half the night in his bed, trying to get the best position for sleeping, but not succeeding for more than two hours. 

So, here he is, miserable and alone in his bed, looking at the clock which shows him that Evan will be here in less than five minutes, but he is still in his bed, in his the most comfy, but really old hoodie and boxers. 

Tommy kind of wishes Evan would text him now and rain check again, not wanting to drag the man into his mess, but of course as he thinks about this, Evan opens the door.

“Hey, sleepy beauty, I brought us coffee and your favorite burgers from this cafe you like so much,” Evan’s voice, as always sunny as his face and smile, spreads throughout the small house.

The sound of the sneakers being taken off, then steps to the, as Tommy suspects kitchen, as next he hears sounds of the plates taken out. Next he hears footsteps again and then his bedroom’s door is open, to reveal his boyfriend in his dark skin jeans and burgundy hoodie, Tommy pretty sure Evan was wearing during the tour. 

“Hey,” Evan smiles at him, putting plates and coffee on his nightstand, and sits down near his face, putting his hand to stroke his hair.

Tommy will never admit he melts into the touch. But he melts and ready to purr like a kitten being pet.

“Are you having a blanket burrito day?”

“Blanket burrito day?”

“Yeah. I call the bad days, when I can’t get out of the bed because of my leg or  because of bad mood, or both,  ‘blanket burrito day’,” Evan kisses his forehead. “Are you having this today or you just want me to jump into your bed?” his boyfriend smirks and winks at him and Tommy smiles a little too.

He knows he can joke about that. Say that yes, it was his way to get Evan into his bed and maybe make out or even something more, but he doesn’t want something like that.

He needs someone to hold him. Just hold him and show him he’s not alone and it will get better.

“Can you hug me?” Tommy doesn't like how small his voice sounds and he hates how quick he folded looking at his boyfriend who with one glance knew he was having a bad day. “If-if it’s ok.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it’s ok. I love cuddles,” Evan smiles at him, taking his jeans off and lying down behind him, putting his hands around his waist.

He makes sure Tommy can feel himself touching every part of Evan’s big body behind him and Tommy wants to cry from the feeling of being safe. Protected. Loved.

They stay like that for half an hour, not talking and Tommy breaks the silence, needing to know.

“You don’t ask questions. Why am I having a bad day? What happened?,” Tommy plays with Evan’s fingers on his waist, “Or you are not even trying to tell me to stop. You aren’t telling me to male up,” he whispers it but in silence and with how close they are he knows Evan hears him.

Hands on his waist only squeeze tighter and then he feels a careful little kiss on his neck.

“We all have bad days. Especially on our job, with everything we saw. It’s normal to have them and you deserve to let yourself be sad if you feel it without trying to move on. You deserve someone to take care of you. And the reason for your bad mood isn’t so important for me to find out, if you don’t want to talk right now. You can do it on your time. Just,” Evan turns them so he can look him in the eyes. Blue to blue. “Don’t push me away. I want to be here, with you not just on good days. I want bad days too. Because you can’t live without them. But,” Evan smiles at him and kisses him so chaste Tommy wants to cry, “you can be not alone. Especially on bad days. You can share the pain with your person, making the burden easy to bear.”

Tommy just nods and lets himself get comfortable in Evan’s hands, feeling how slumber takes over him because the warmth from Evan and his breath lull him into sleep.

“I’ll tell you after the sleep,” Tommy mumbles before falling asleep.

“Take your time, baby,” Tommy feels the kiss on his shoulder, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tommy knows it’s not the promise only about today.

read on ao3

prompts

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

for the ask post, I wish you'd write a fic for a part 2 for no longer yours to keep. I think it would be sweet if they did poly but maybe it takes Garrick a bit to warm up for the fact but still sees that Xaden cares for reader also

The second part to this piece

Warning: blood, nudity

You wouldn’t go back to the first month of rage ever. You wished it never happened in the first place. But then maybe it was inevitable. So many things were changing and as strong as both of them were, bonding a dragon had taken a toll on them too. You had managed to hide it for a couple of weeks. Fighting the urge to find comfort in Xaden. You had chosen to ignore him but that had only caused you more physical pain.

“What’s wrong?”, Garrick had pulled you aside after you practically got choked on the training mat because you were too sloppy. “It’s nothing”, you muttered as you had for days. By now looking in his eyes had gotten too much. “Quit that, love. We don’t hide shit from each other”, his tone was harsher, slicing bits of your heart off as guilt slammed into you.

You raised your teary eyes at him. Garrick’s face softened instantly, “What is it? What’s hurting?”, his hands gently reached for you as he looked you over. “Promise me you will not act on it”, you muttered. But there it was. That stoney, killer like wall, “Then don’t give me a reason to kill someone”, he said through gritted teeth, “Spill it out”.

“I bonded a mated dragon”, you whispered. Garrick simply looked at you with a shrug, “And?”. You swallowed thickly. Knowing that this might as well be the last time he’s looking at you. “Mated to Xaden’s dragon”, you muttered, “Meaning that we are also…”, “No”, Garrick hissed, “Bullshit”. You closed your eyes, trying to keep yourself calm. “It wasn’t my choice, I only felt it when I saw him after”, you heard Garrick inhaling sharply.

“That was two weeks ago”, it was a cold, calculated kind of answer, “You knew for two weeks and didn’t think of telling me?”. He hissed stepping closer to you. Towering over you. “I didn’t want to lose you”, you hiccuped. “Fuck that, have you been sneaking around too?”, his hand found your neck, making you look up at him. Even against his grip you managed to shake your head. “I couldn’t, I told him that I would not let him interfere”, you cried out, trying to reach out for him, but Garrick batted your hands off.

“You fucking…”, he called out right as the back room yanked open and the room went pitch black. “Careful how you speak to her”, a voice hissed. A voice so familiar. As if from the depths of your soul. And suddenly you were slumped against the wall. Glimpsing up to find Xaden pinning Garrick against the wall. “You selfish fuck, why do you always insert yourself in situations where you’re not needed”, Garrick hissed, shoving Xaden off. Both males growled, reaching for their daggers.

You jumped to your feet quickly. Pushing between them right as they lunged forward at one another. Both of their daggers nicking your arms, drawing blood. They both stilled at the same time. Metal clanked to the floor as they reached for it. Both assess the damage. “Look what you did”, Garrick hissed. “If you weren’t a selfish bastard”, Xaden bit back. You grasp both of their hands in yours, silently pleading with them for a heartbeat, before muttering a broken, “Please”.

The memory is still painful enough to jolt you up from your sleep. But as much as you want to move and get up, you can feel the weight of arms pressing down on you. Bringing ease and comfort into your bones. Chasing the anxiety away. “You should be sleeping”, a low voice muffles from the left side of you. Sending warmth soaring through your body. “So should you”, you mutter, suddenly not trusting your voice. “Garrick is snoring”, Xaden huffed, and even in the dark you could make out his sharp features. The strength that he possessed lay down for you to see. “Oh you poor baby”, you chirped at him, brushing your palm over his chest. Xaden wasted no time pulling you closer to him, “I would tickle the hell out of you if he was awake”, both of your eyes trailed towards the male sleeping on the right side of the bed. While they had grasped the hang of loving you loudly. Whatever kindled between them was mellow for a passing glance. But they made up with gestures of care.

“You’re thinking about us”, Xaden stated after a moment of silence. “How do you… Never mind”, you shook your head, reaching to pull the blanket over Garrick’s shoulders higher. Xaden’s fingers ran up and down your bare back. “You two are doing okay?”, his voice was much more gentle this time. After the loss of temper and the idea of an open relationship between you three was on the table you and Xaden had practically clawed at each other at any moment you two had. Your dragons had happily joined the frenzy. That had made Garrick pull back. You doubted that it was his ego that had been bruised considering the nights you two had shared. It was more the act of letting go fully that had frightened him. You two had been each other’s strength for years.

“We’re okay. Went on a date yesterday. It was nice”, you smiled slightly thinking back to the evening you two shared. “Reminded me of the old times and it was…”, you stopped yourself from regretting the words that were seconds away from slipping through your lips. “Just you two. I get it”, the gentle brush of his fingers stilled as he focused on the ceiling.

You shifted slightly, moving beneath the sheets to drape your leg over his hips as you moved to straddle him. You were able to open your mouth but Xaden beat you to it. “Do you think you both will forgive me for my poor choice of when I was younger and left you by?”, the old wounds cracking open. You sighed, leaning in to press a couple of loving kisses across his chest, “Have you forgiven yourself?”, and somehow your words had hit Xaden harder than a no could have ever hit. “Not to mention that you had time to come clean after”, Garrick’s groggy voice sounded through the room. “Ger…”, you breathed out, not wanting this night to turn into yet another fight. “He’s right I should have made it up to you both”, Xaden admitted.

“Make it up to me with kisses now”, you leaned it brushing your nose against his. And while Xaden let out a low chuckle, Garrick only grunted, “You’re letting him off the hook too easily”. You pulled back, exposing your bare body to the two males. Not that they haven’t seen every inch of you already. “Can I win you both over like this”, you smirked, biting your lip. Garrick reached for your hand pulling you towards him, “You’re playing dirty, vixen”, he mused as his lips brushed against yours. You felt Xaden’s palms tightening over your hips, “She sat on me first”, he mussed pulling you away from Garrick, seating your right back against his hips. “Suddenly, I’m not in the mood to share”, Garrick growled at Xaden, who only smirked, “Suddenly, I’m in the mood for a challenge”.

[1d1195]

Traditional Extra VI

Read Traditional here

Here's a little angsty bit from our lovely (jealous) MC this time around based on this ask

~4.5 k words

“I think you should talk to him.”

“No way,” she snorted. “Do you know how embarrassing that would be? And pathetic.”

Louis laughed. “The man has literally fired his best friend over jealousy of you. This is nothing,” he promised with a shake of his head.

“You don’t need to go with me, baby.”

“M’not arguing ‘bout this,” Harry muttered holding the door open for her to go through first. As she passed him, he glared at the cast on her delicate arm. For the last six weeks he looked at it loathingly. It hurt him to know she was in pain those early weeks, shaken, and physically broken.

Fortunately, it was the last day of glaring at it.

Things were better at Styles Incorporated. Her brilliant idea of course was beyond helpful, lifesaving in more ways than one. Harry was certain without it he would have had to make some deep cuts and would have ruined an innumerable number of his employees’ lives. They didn’t even know she was responsible for the idea.

Thanking her would never ever be enough.

Niall wasn’t fired anymore. She brought Harry tea every day at quarter past one. His office was spruced up with new furniture and electronics once more. Niall caught M&Ms in his mouth that she tossed from her desk and passed notes to her during meetings. Everything was right again.

Except her fragile arm. After the first week, she claimed it didn’t bother her (it didn’t, truly; but Harry was miserable about it). It was a little inconvenient. Showering was a challenge, but Harry rarely let her do that on her own without a broken bone, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Having sex with a cast on was also her least favorite. There was nothing un-sexier than a honking plaster on her forearm. Harry swore it didn’t even register in his brain.

I hope this doesn’t bother you... But m’never looking at your forearm when we’re in bed whether y’have a cast or not.

So, there was that.

Harry was still Louis’ least favorite person. It made him extremely anxious; in some ways, he was more worried about Louis’ feelings for him than her arm being broken or even the state of his company. There was no her if Louis didn’t like him. She reassured him that he was being extra, and she would speak to him, but he was certain Louis would melt him with his eyes if he could.

“It wasn’t his fault, Louis!” She whined laying across the sofa dramatically. “You’re being the worst right now!”

Louis shrugged. “I don’t like that you got broken.”

“It’s not like Harry was the one that crashed into me or snapped my arm,” she reminded him.

“I don’t care; you shouldn’t have left.”

She groaned. “So blame me!”

“Never,” he shook his head decidedly. Even getting Eleanor to talk him off the ledge was no help. Louis was almost unbearably stubborn. Eleanor swore she would keep working on him.

Once the cast was off, she was hoping it would go back to normal.

That day was today. She waltzed up to the counter to check in and then sat beside Harry on the hard plastic chairs. He was on the phone while she checked in, speaking in hushed whispers so as not to bother the others in the waiting room. It was definitely a business call—it was the middle of the day and she almost got away with leaving without him knowing and fussing but Niall told him.

Niall walked toward their office when he dropped Harry off at the elevator beside her.

“Tattle tale,” she glared at his retreating figure. He turned his head over his shoulder and winked at her with a telling smile that he didn’t care at all.

Harry frowned. “Kitten,” he sounded so hurt waiting alongside her. “Why didn’t y’tell me?” He pouted.

She sighed. “Because you’ve been so fussy. They’re just going to take it off. Plus, it’ll smell and—”

The elevator pinged with its arrival cutting her off from listing anything else. The nice thing about riding the elevator with the CEO was rarely did anyone want to be caught in the elevator with Harry. It meant they often got to make out privately in the middle of the workday. Harry stood at the back, leaning against the handrail. He looked at the ceiling as they descended the floors with the world’s weariest sigh. She stood beside him and tilted her head up as well. “I’m tired of you being upset about it.”

“You’re the most important thing in the world t’me, kitten,” he reminded her. “M’not taking this lightly.”

She smiled sadly at him. “I know. I know, baby. But you’re... it’s not your fault. And I don’t need you to be here for this. I know you’re busy. I saw your schedule. That’s why I didn’t tell you about it. If you had the time I would—”

“I’m never too busy for you,” his look was nearly ferocious. Intense and serious. Way too much for getting her cast sawed off on Thursday. He grabbed her hand and twined their fingers together. “Y’have t’know that,” he whispered. “I’d...I’d give up everything for you.”

“I don’t want that,” she shook her head with a little eye roll, but the gravity of his words ached her heart. She could feel each syllable shaking her body and soul.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She smiled. “Say it again,” she teased.

He chuckled pressing his forehead to hers and pecked her lips quickly. “I love you,” he repeated.

“Again.”

“I love you,” he promised and cupped her face between his hands and kissed her until the elevator brought them to the main floor.

“You can stay out here while it gets cut off,” she offered when he ended the call and scrolled through a plethora of texts and emails.

“Absolutely not,” he murmured without looking up from his phone.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her good arm around her stomach and let the cast arm lay limply in her lap. He was way too overdressed. It wasn’t his fault. He was just dressed for work. A button down tucked into a pair of fitted slacks. He looked like a model for Armani. She stared at him and looked at her outfit—having known she was leaving early for the cast cutting, she wore a pair of leggings and a jersey dress over it. She was comfortable—not overdressed but still presentable for work. She looked like a mess in comparison to Harry.

“S’matter?” he asked glancing from his phone. “Are you in pain?”

“You look really nice,” she murmured.

He smirked and shook his head. “Yeah? S’that make y’sad?”

“I look like a goblin right now.”

He chuckled, tucking his phone back in his pocket. He shook his head. “You look beautiful. You always do.”

“Hey Harry, what are you doing here?”

They turned to the sound of the woman standing at the door leading to the patient rooms. The woman was stunning. Even in scrubs, with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her cheekbones were sharp and accented by the prettiest contoured makeup she had ever seen. Her eyelashes were full and lovely. She was almost certain they were natural.

Her jaw dropped a bit just looking at her, seeing that she very obviously knew Harry.

“Oh, hi, Soph,” Harry stood and cleared his throat. “Um... my girlfriend,” he gestured holding his hand out for her to take and she rose to her feet. “Her cast is coming off today.”

“Oh, you can come this way. Sorry! That was a bit unprofessional. Just surprised to see Harry,” Soph smiled sweetly and gestured for the pair of them to walk through the door. She glanced at Harry as she followed behind the pretty woman in scrubs. Harry looked a little paler. If she wasn’t so obsessed with him, she might not have noticed the change in his expression. But she had seen the worry in his eyes hidden behind the careful front he managed to keep composed when he talked with other businessmen and businesswomen. Usually when they said something that irked him because he disagreed with their philosophy or work ethic—Harry was good at what he did and had been for a while. It was hard to listen to all but bad ideas.

But she hadn’t seen it in relation to a woman she had never heard of. Was Soph short for Sophia or Sophie? Or something else? How did he know her? Why did he call her by a nickname?

“How’s your arm feel?” She asked gesturing for her to sit on the patient table while she walked to the counter to type on the chart on the tablet she carried.

“It’s fine. I think it could have come off two weeks ago,” she said still feeling weary about how Harry knew her. Harry rolled his eyes.

“She’s been trying t’rush the healing process,” Harry said.

Soph smirked. “I don’t blame you,” she said looking back at her. “It’s no fun with a cast. I was in a splint for my ankle after an ice-skating thing, remember how irritated I was?” Her question was directed to Harry. She felt the pit of her stomach churn and warm with anxiety.

Harry smirked at the memory almost instinctively. “I remember,” he mumbled quietly. It felt like a knife had been twisted in her heart. She hoped her face wasn’t betraying her internal feelings.

Soph pulled the saw off the table that would cut the plaster off her arm. She had trouble focusing on what Soph was saying because she was almost unbearably pretty. Soph went through the standard cast-cutting procedures as if she said it a hundred times a day and showed her how the saw wouldn’t cut her, pressed it to her own hand as proof and reminded her to speak up if for whatever reason she felt pain and wanted to take a breather.

“You two know each other?” She couldn’t help but ask while she sliced through the plaster. Harry was staring at her arm and nothing else.

“Like four years ago,” she smiled softly. “I was in college; my roommate was an intern at Styles Incorporated. She hated it there,” she laughed quietly. “But she brought me to the holiday party, and I asked for a drink at the bar and this guy bumped into me; spilled my drink all over me. I was glad I was wearing a dark colored dress.”

“Niall shoved me,” he grumbled looking away briefly to hide the irritation he felt over the little faux pas.

“It wasn’t a big deal. Obviously, I was used to frat house parties so having a nice Chardonnay spill on me was a lot better than party punch,” she rolled her eyes. “He was beside himself though,” she glanced at Harry with this knowing smile that made it seem like a secret. Harry’s lips twisted slightly in a half smirk. Her insides twisted again, and she had to remind herself internally to keep calm. They had a private thing. Something she didn’t know about.

Harry was clearly with this very pretty girl. Someone he obviously cared about. Sure, it was ages ago, but it was everything she feared. That stupid woman from one of the worst days of her life was right. Harry didn’t date plain girls. Not if Soph was any indication. “Have you been dating long?” Soph asked.

“Just...” she shook her head trying to do the math and feeling pathetic that it didn’t add up to much. “Just about a year,” she murmured.

“Officially,” Harry added quickly. “We dated for about six months prior,” he reminded her and told Soph like it was necessary she knew.

“That’s sweet,” she cooed kindly. Her smile was genuine. Soph was genuine. There wasn’t an ounce of jealousy or cattiness in her voice seeing Harry. She wasn’t sure she would feel the same way if the roles were reversed which made her inferiority ache in her stomach and chest more. “Well,” Soph had excitement in her voice. “Here it is,” she smiled and pulled the plaster and cushioning off her arm in two pieces. “It might be a little stiff. Regular over the counter medicine will help alleviate any final pain from the muscle stretching a bit more freely. But you’re good to go,” she patted her arm.

She shook her head trying to remind herself that she was supposed to be polite. But the feeling of inadequacy washed over her. “Thank you,” she said kindly. “I love your nails,” because she did. They were pink for Valentine’s Day maybe and the little hearts on the ring finger were adorable. It also made her notice that she didn’t have a ring.

“Oh thanks! I am actually really disappointed in my nail place—I need these off, but I don’t want to go back to where I went—they’re so outgrown,” she frowned. “I’ve been trying for ages to find a good one.”

“Oh,” she pulled out her phone. “I go to this place—not very often, admittedly. But they’re good,” she offered and held her screen out to show her.

“Thank you so much, that’s awesome! Your nails look so healthy and lovely, I noticed while I was cutting  the cast off. You don’t even have a color on them and I’m so jealous of them,” at least the feeling was mutual. “Would you mind texting me the name?” She asked with a kind smile. “Harry probably still has my number,” she turned to Harry for confirmation.

This time Harry’s posture was as stiff as her arm. He cleared his throat. “Mm.”

“Perfect,” Soph smiled as if she hadn’t a clue how weird this all was. As if she wasn’t aware of the anxiety and jealousy coursing through her. Maybe she was a good actress. “It was nice meeting you!” Soph chirped sweetly. “Nice to see you, Harry,” she pressed her hand on his arm as she passed out the door and left the pair of them to leave behind her.

*

Harry chatted on the phone while he drove back to Styles Incorporated. Normally, she listened in on the phone calls trying to help as best she could when needed. Muting his call when she had something important to add or a tidbit of information, a file, or something to help with the call.

But the feeling of inadequacy was the only thing she could focus on during the car ride. She scrolled through her phone and tried to ignore the images of someone so pretty with Harry. She was a good three inches taller than her. Her skin was flawless. She looked like she worked out often. The thought of her in Harry’s personal space made her feel sick.

She was nothing like her.

How could Harry want someone like her when he had dated someone like Soph?

“Y’okay, beautiful?” He asked. “Your arm hurt?” He wondered, reaching over and placing his hand on her thigh. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Just kind of tired all of a sudden. Skipped our coffee.”

He smiled softly. “I was going t’stop on the way,” he promised.

“Thank you.”

“’Course, kitten.”

*

She hoped the feelings of inadequacy would have dissipated by now but after tracking down Soph’s phone number she even sent her a pic of her new nails thanking her for the recommendation.

An M&M hit the side of her head. “You okay, darling?” Niall asked.

It was hard to keep it in. “Do you know Harry’s ex, Soph?” She asked.

“Sophie?” He blinked in surprise. Her heart felt heavy knowing her full name. “Yeah...they dated a while back...uh...for like a year, maybe? She was in college. Harry was only just getting Styles Incorporated under way. The second or third year?”

A year?

She nodded. “She cut my cast off,” she explained.

“Oh,” Niall tilted his head. “Was she...mean?”

“No, she was...really nice.”

“Yeah. I kind of figured. She always was.” As awful as it felt to watch Soph and Harry share a smile at the fond memory of ice-skating—even if it ended with her in a splint—knowing that Niall thought she was nice was somehow just as awful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked. “Is your arm bothering you?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Just a little distracted. I didn’t sleep well,” she lied.

“You should go home, I think Harry left for a lunch meeting,” Niall explained.

“He left?” She asked quietly.

Niall smirked biting his lip. “Sorry, darling. He pushed the lunch meeting to today so he could go to the hospital with you the other day.”

She hated when he did that.

“Okay,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

She gathered her belongings trying to feel less ridiculous but unable to quell the frustration she felt. “Call me if you need something,” she reminded him.

“Always, darling. Same to you,” he eyed her suspiciously.

*

Louis was glad her arm was freed of the cast. “Maybe you should get my name tattooed on it,” he suggested missing his name across the entire plaster more than he hated the reason for the cast. She snorted.

Eleanor was still at work, but Louis returned to their place early per her request. They sat on the sofa, watching a movie and snacking on popcorn and candy. “Do you want to tell me why I left work early?” He asked.

She shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

“Trouble in paradise?” He questioned.

“Drop it, Louis,” she muttered stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

He did.

For like four minutes. “Did Harry mess up?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing Louis, I’m being ridiculous.”

Another minute. “Are you finally mad about him breaking your arm?”

“Can you not be a child for like, five minutes?”

“Probably not.”

She sighed and pressed her palms against the length of her face and kept them over her eyes. “Harry’s ex cut my cast off,” she mumbled. “She was beautiful and nice,” she explained. “It was so humbling. I’m nothing like her. She was this dainty fairy and I looked like a potato farmer in comparison,” she sighed.

“Babe,” Louis frowned. His voice was gentle. Him acting like a child finally ceased. “Obviously I’m still mad at Harry—”

“Stupid,” she grumbled.

“–But that man loves you more than anyone has ever loved anybody. Except me with El of course,” he reminded her. “There’s a reason they didn’t work out.”

She bit the inside corner of her lip and tried to stop the feeling of tears in her eyes from surfacing. “She was so pretty, Louis,” she whispered. “It wasn’t even close.”

“But Harry loves you,” he repeated. “I know I’m being a little ridiculous about my frustration toward him, but honestly, there’s no one I trust with you more than him. He would probably break every bone in his body for you still.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I think you should talk to him.”

“No way,” she snorted. “Do you know how embarrassing that would be? And pathetic.”

Louis laughed. “The man has literally fired his best friend over jealousy of you. This is nothing,” he promised with a shake of his head. Her phone vibrated with a message. “Speak of the devil?” Louis asked. She ignored him reading the message from Harry.

Niall said you weren’t feeling well. Hope everything is okay... Let me know what you want for dinner. See you later, kitten xx Tell Louis I said hi (and I’m sorry.)

“Can you imagine your ex-boyfriend doing that for you?” Louis asked reading over her shoulder.

She sighed and put her phone faced down. “Just tell him?”

Louis nodded. “Communication, babe. You might even get to have really hot sex after too.”

She spared her best friend of the details that all of their sex was really hot.

*

Harry had laid out a feast for the two of them when she arrived home. “Whoa, it smells good in here,” she called from the entryway kicking her shoes off. The relief flooded him. Niall told him she left early while he was gone, and it made him almost crazy immediately. It shouldn’t have, he had her location (she had his too) and he knew she was at Louis’...but it was more than that. She had been off all weekend. Less chatty with him. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes which always happened right before she got sick. She had gotten a nasty cold twice since he knew her, and he also remembered her cycle messing with her regular, adorable self.

He hurried around the corner to look at her. She was in a black turtleneck with a pair of tweed overalls. She was so pretty it hurt his chest and he had seen her at work, and he still felt speechless. As much as he loved to get a peek at her cleavage, he thought the turtleneck was so sexy and she looked like a princess. Her hair was twisted in a clip, a few pieces falling forward to frame her face. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked. “Are you okay?”

“God, you’re beautiful,” he sighed dreamily.

She laughed and looked at her feet briefly, her face warming at his compliment. “Thank you, baby.”

He pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. “Are y’okay?” He asked. “M’worried. Y’were a little off all weekend. Like when y’get sick. I made y’some comfort food,” he explained. She nodded against his chest. He had swapped out his work clothes for a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“M’fine,” she murmured in his shirt. She inhaled his heavenly scent and tried to steel herself to be brave and have the conversation she needed to have.

“Yeah? Y’seem sad, kitten. Tell me s’matter and I’ll fix it.”

She bit the inside of her lip. Part of her knew it would break Harry’s heart for her feelings of inadequacy. He had done nothing but adore her and she knew that. It was just... well, she couldn’t help the shake to her confidence (or lack thereof) seeing the pretty, nice girl who knew Harry intimately. “Is dinner ready or can we sit outside for a minute?” She asked. With her face still pressed to his chest, her body caged in his arms, she could feel his heartbeat flutter. She thought it was weird.

“We can sit outside,” he murmured and released everything but her hand and tugged her to the cold bed outside. Harry flipped on the heated lamp and aimed it toward the bed. She pulled a blanket from the basket near the swinging furniture and climbed onto the mattress. She waited for Harry to join her and wrapped the blanket around him, especially with his short sleeves.

“I have to tell—”

“Are you breaking up with me?” He blurted.

“Oh, for the love of God,” she rolled her eyes. “No Harry, of course not. You’re stuck with me,” she gave him a squeeze now understanding the flutter of his heart against her cheek was anxiety.

His relief deflated out of him in a sigh. “Oh,” he sighed. “Then what’s wrong?” He frowned. She closed her eyes and tucked her face into his collarbone. He rubbed her back soothingly, brushed his lips on her hairline. “Kitten,” he murmured. “Y’can tell me anything. M’sorry you’re upset—”

“I’m jealous,” she whispered.

He blinked, pulled back a bit from her so he could peer awkwardly at her face. “Jealous?” He repeated.

She closed her eyes and nodded. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Jealous of what?”

“Soph,” her voice was so quiet Harry wasn’t sure he heard her right.

“Who?”

“Oh, stop it, Harry,” she grumbled.

“Kitten, I have no idea who you’re—oh. Oh,” there was a long pause. “You’ve been upset since Thursday?” He asked. “Why didn’t y’tell me?”

“Cause it’s embarrassing.”

He snorted. “Kitten, I fired m’best friend in a jealous rage,” he reminded her. “Y’have nothing on me.” She imagined when she told Louis about this, that not even the embarrassment she felt would feel as bad as Louis’ smug I told you so. “Did I do something t’make y’uncomfortable?” He asked. She could see his mind spinning thinking back to Thursday and the entire interaction.

“Harry,” she sighed and looked at his green eyes filled with concern for her. His gaze was gentle. It felt like a hug in itself just to be looked at him. “She is so pretty.”

“So?”

He was going to make her say it. “I look nothing like her,” she whispered.

“Well, ‘course not. You are much more beautiful,” he shrugged casually.

“Harry,” she whined and pressed her face into his chest.

“Are you jealous because you think she’s prettier?” He asked, tilting her warm-shamed face back up to look at her with those beautiful eyes. “Kitten,” he frowned.

“I am not jealous because I think she’s prettier,” she grumbled and looked down at her nose to avoid his gaze. “I know she’s prettier,” she mumbled.

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Kitten, s’absolutely wrong,” he promised. “You are infinitely more beautiful than her. Look at how pretty y’look right now. And every time y’hold a door open for someone? Or how you jus’ know what I need in every meeting before I do. Or for anyone. The kindness y’have for everyone you meet. You were jealous of her and y’still told her where t’get her nails done,” he reminded her. “She would never do that. She’s pretty and nice but there is no comparison t’you, my love. We dated ages ago and it didn’t work. S'no reason t'be jealous of her.”

“I know but—”

“Kitten, I don’t think you would ever make out with someone else while we were dating; even if y’were drunk and at a college party,” he explained silencing her completely. Her lips parted slightly in surprise trying to process it. “We were at different stages in life. I was too busy for a girlfriend while m’company was starting. She wanted t'have fun in college. M’glad she’s happy. But when she told me she kissed someone else, I was relieved,” he explained. “It hurt a bit, but it was jus’ easier t’let go of something I knew wasn’t really right for me.”

“She made out with someone else?” She asked in shock. “How could she do that while dating you?”

Harry laughed loudly. He nuzzled his face against her ear and kissed the side of her head. “S’exactly why I know y’have nothing t’be jealous of, kitten,” he whispered. “M’so in love with you. I think if y'made out with someone else, I would probably kill him,” he admitted. “I didn’t feel that way with her,” he was quiet for a few moments. “Does that make y’feel better?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“M’sorry if I didn’t make y’feel beautiful or perfect, kitten. Y’very much are. Think I’d lose m’mind without you.”

She frowned slightly. “You always make me feel beautiful.”

“S’because you are,” he murmured and kissed her softly on the lips until he pulled away and kissed her forehead. “Y’ready for dinner?” He asked.

She nodded, but stopped him before he fully climbed off the bed. She gabbed his face and kissed him again, a smile on his lips as he kissed her back. “I love you,” she sighed softly when she broke away. His gaze was soft looking at her eyes again.

“Say it again,” he whispered, making her giggle.

--

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[beansmack2021]

She's Yours Now

Teen!Reader x Platonic!Hazbin Hotel Characaters

Summary: Someone decides who gets to go to Heaven and who is sent to Hell. But, who would send a sixteen year old to Hell? Especially one who seems so... quiet.

TW: Mentions of abuse, mentions of death in childbirth, justified murder, blood, violence

“You little bitch! You ruined my fucking life, and now you want my money? My food? Get a fucking job, you ungrateful piece of shit, and buy it yourself!”

“Please, I'm hungry. I just wanted a sandwich. I won't even use the mayonnaise.” Y/N begged and pleaded, but she knew she wouldn't get anywhere with her father.

He was drunk more often than not, and he was totally unreasonable when he'd gotten a few beers in his system.

Y/N decided she'd just go to the kitchen later, when he was asleep, and sneak a sandwich or some crackers. She'd also toss his cigarettes in the toilet bowl. He'd probably know it was her, but it'd be funny to watch him fish around in the toilet water for the pack. It'd be worth the yelling.

She'd started to smirk a bit, still enjoying the idea of making him look like an idiot, when she was suddenly struck with intense, sharp pain. She raised her hand to her temple, gasping as she took in the crimson that stained her fingers. Her ear was ringing, and she saw the amber colored glass that littered the carpet.

He'd hit her before, sure, but he'd never smashed a bottle over her head before. She didn't have much time to try and make an escape to her room before he grabbed her by the collar and yanked her up. He wasn't much taller than her, so her feet barely left the floor, but that didn't stop her panicked frenzy.

She punched him, clawed at his arms, and tried to bite him. He spit in her face and dropped her on the floor like a sack of potatoes. She gasped as she landed. She'd tried to catch herself and instead felt a bone in her wrist crack. The broken glass in the carpet dug into her palms and legs. Blood started to seep through her jeans and into the rug. She knew better than to scream. It'd only get her into worse trouble.

Her father reached across the table, grabbed another empty bottle from the table, and launched it at Y/N. She closed her eyes, trying to use her arms to shield herself. The glass smashed painfully against her bare skin. She cried out and immediately regretted it. Her cries prompted him to start getting more physical. He pulled her hair so that she was forced to look up at him as he kicked her ribs. Bam, bam, bam! The room was spinning. She heard one sickening crack and then another. She didn't know what to do. She was scared. Every part of her wanted to scream. She was sure her neighbors would hear her. She couldn't force it out of her throat, though. He knelt down next to her, yanking her chin up toward him, and grumbled in her face. “What did we learn?” He growled. He'd say that any time he thought she'd learned a “valuable lesson”. She felt around the carpet, wincing whenever another microshard of glass dug its way into her palm. She finally felt the neck of the bottle and grabbed it. “That you're a fucking asshole.” She stabbed him in his thick neck, and he clutched his throat as he bled out. He fell over, nearly collapsing on top of her, and gasped his final breath a few minutes later. Y/N was dying. She could feel it. She'd call for someone, but there'd be no point. She'd lost a lot of blood from the gash across her head, and her broken ribs had probably punctured her lungs. At least she'd gone out with a fight. She prayed that she wouldn't end up in the same place that he did. She closed her eyes, whispered an apology to her mother, who'd died giving birth to her, and asked whoever would listen that she'd see her mom on the other side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was really, really quiet. Normally, this would be absolutely wonderful. Normal doesn't exist in Hell. Quiet meant something was going to happen. Charlie didn't like to admit it, but sometimes, even she knew it wasn't going to be a “happy day in Hell”. She tried to relax as Vaggie massaged her scalp, but as soon as she'd finally calmed down enough to actually enjoy her girlfriend's hands in her hair, her phone started ringing. She picked it up, took a glance at the caller ID, and smiled to herself. She and her father had finally started to reconnect, so check-ins over the phone had become more and more frequent. Maybe that's what she'd been in anticipation of. She'd finally be able to relax. She heaved a sigh of relief and answered Lucifer's call. “Hey, Da-” “Charlie. We've got an emergency.” He cut her off, and she was instantly thrown off by how serious he sounded. “What's wrong? Is it Heaven? Did they make the extermination date even sooner?” Charlie started to panic, her blood running cold at the idea that she had even less time than she believed to rally the troops to defend her kingdom.

“No, Char. It's nothing like that. It's serious, though. There's a new arrival.” She was confused, now. New people arrive in Hell every day. If her father felt he needed to call her and let her know personally, there was a chance that the sinner could pose a serious threat. “She's young, Charlie. Really young. She…” He faltered. He sounded emotional. “She needs you. She needs the hotel. She doesn't belong here. Please, take care of her.”

Charlie was quiet. Her father wanted her to take in a sinner, but it sounded like he didn't feel she was a sinner at all. He was concerned, that much she could tell. She just didn't know what the girl could've done to end up in Hell of all places if she was so young and innocent. She decided, with finality, that everyone needed a safe space. “Alright, Dad. Where can we find her?”

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag babes! @guiltyasdave • nsfw under the cut! 18+ MDNI!

wip #1 • show me a little bit of spine! feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

'five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…'

oops i don't have a sneak peek for this one...sorry chickens.

this is an official part two to "all's fair in love and viscera" cause i can't leave them alone to save my life! i finally decided on the name crimson for this specific reader, and the au as a whole will be called the to the bone universe (that’s also how it’ll be tagged on my acc!!!)

this is jealous!logan getting down and dirty in a bar bathroom after a special someone makes a move on his girl...wink wink nudge nudge. a special guest! a very special guest, cause what better way is there to get a man off their ass and admit they like you than dirty dancing with another man in front of him.

think degradation, biting, pain kink (obvi wtf). there's also some emotional constipation and just a hint of angst. it'll be so fun!

wip #2 • says he needs it bad (oh so very bad) feat. sub!logan howlett (& crimson!)

'it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…'

double oops i don’t have a sneak peek for this one either…pls forgive me!

this is also apart of the to the bone universe but it's more like a non-connecting little blurb than another part...if that makes sense lol i just wanted to write more crimson!

all this is thanks to a lovely anon who sent in a req desperately needing me to speak on sub!logan. it's funny because ofc i'll speak on sub!logan wtf who do you think i am. it's honestly one of the fluffiest, softest things i've ever written...established relationship is really locking my ass down. it's still filthy though don't worry! think riding, think pain kink, think light dustings of a breeding kink. i really don't know how to explain this lmao it's gonna be great trust me!

wip #3 • hunting for sport... feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

'there's a big bad wolf somewhere in these woods...'

You scramble backwards, stuck watching the way the brush starts to rustle as he gets closer. You push yourself back to your feet, muscles screaming in protest as you break into a sprint. It's all in vain, you know it is. He's only playing with you, letting you tire yourself out. He’s known where you’ve been the whole time, could smell you the whole time, could hear you the whole time. The two of you have been at this long enough now, his patience is starting to run thin. He's right behind you, if the violent thrashing of the brush over your shoulder getting louder is any indication. The dull sound of claws ripping through the forest floor growing closer and closer before the entire woods suddenly tilts on its axis.

this is also in the to the bone universe! can you tell that i'm really into this au? i physically can't stop writing them...another little fic that's outside the events of parts one and two :))) who would i be if i didn't write a chase fic for this man? that's the real question. more violence heavy than the other fics listed, i got bit by the freak bug and i need to write nasty sexy violence sorry babes.

wip #4 • give it to me like a man! feat. dbf!patrick zweig

'patrick comes to your college graduation party, he gives you the best gift...'

“Yeah, I've been pretty busy since the season started. Lot’s of traveling and shit, you know?” Your dad hums in agreement, nodding his head lazily. “For sure, my schedule has been killer this season.” He brags shamelessly, tone heavy with understanding like he and Patrick are in the same boat. Only your dad’s boat is a three million dollar yacht sailing to cushy televised matches and Nike shoots while Patrick is floating on a dinghy to some barely media covered ITF matches. “It’s a miracle I even had time to fly in for the party, isn’t that right sweetheart?” Your hand slides up the length of his cock in one slow motion, your palm grinding over the tip through the denim. “Yeah, daddy.” You say, voice going light and airy around the edges. Patrick thinks it’s being said to your dad, but when his eyes flick over to you, you’re already looking at him. Eyes half-lidded and shiny as your fingers brush over the metal of his zipper.

the long awaited dbf!patrick lol i know i've been dragging this damn thing out for like three weeks but it's the most "done" fic on this list so maybe maybe MAYBE it'll actually be posted soon...

anyway this is nothing but pure filth. just straight up nasty no plot at all pure sex and fucking hard gross style. lots and lots of dirty talk, degradation, risk play, sort of public sex, a barely there daddy kink...just me being nasty on a google doc for no reason!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing (it's technically thursday but like oh em gee who cares just do it anyway chickens)